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That deeds of high purpose her records may fill. 

To Athens I pledge my honor, my all, 

And support her ideab, with my life, at her call. 

On her Past so splendid our Present must gain; 
Only thus can her Future full glory attain, 

O better and greater through me may she be! 
More beauty, more glory, dear Athens, to Thee! 

MARY MORRIS. 

By permission of the Author. 



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VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

TO ENCOURAGE GOOD CITIZENSHIP 



COMPILED BY 
JEAN BROADHURST, A.M.Columbia, Pn.D.Cornell 

' ' ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF BIOLOGY 

TEACBBRS COLLEGE, COLUMBIA UNIVERSmT 

CLARA LAWTON RHODES, A.M. Columbia 

ENGLISB, HACKENSACK HIGH SCHOOL 




PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON 
J. B. LIPPmCOTT COMPAI^ 



'-'%$ 



^v 



COPTBIQHT, 19 IJ), BT J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANT 



PRINTED BT J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 

AT THE WABHINQTON BQUARB PRESS 

PHIIM.DELFBIA, TJ. B. A. 



26 1919 

©CI,A!529012 






PREFACE 

Having recently awakened to the consciousness that 
there are those among us who are not of us, Americans 
will undoubtedly demand the teaching of patriotism in 
the schools. In the effort to accomplish this laudable 
but vaguely defined task, schools must avoid two errors : 
The first is the adoption of " patriotism " as a formal 
branch of the curriculum,^hus making it one of the 
" required subjects " against which the hands of stu- 
dents are turned traditionally. Taught in this way, 
it will leave the student cold. The second mistake is to 
made too direct or too obvious an appeal to the emo- 
tions. Normal youth resents a deliberate attack on 
his emotional nature. Both these methods, therefore, 
defeat their own ends. 

The best way to arouse patriotism is by stirring the 
imagination. Patriotism, noblest and least selfish of 
the ideals of conduct, is born only when the spirit is 
freed from its trammels, to roam for a season the wider 
spaces, its true home. 

" Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, 
Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, 
Our hearts in glad surprise 
To higher levels rise." 

Therefore, a large part of this present volume con- 
sists of verse describing the thrilling deeds of individual 
heroes, and the great achievements of men of all times 
on land and sea. No better means of releasing the 

(iii) 



PREFACE 

imagination can be devised than the stirring narratives 
and the moving songs written in commemoration of 
heroic deeds. The man who feels such embodied ideals 
as worthy of his imitation has gone a long way on the 
road to patriotism. 

The flame of patriotism which swept our country at 
the outbreak of the War, welding together all the sec- 
tions of our broad land and all our diversified peoples, 
is a forerunner of the international spirit of the future, 
the real brotherhood of man. We have, therefore, in- 
cluded poems which have stirred the peoples of other 
lands, all of whom are now represented in our country. 

The editors hope that this volume will also prove an 
acceptable aid in teaching English in secondary schools, 
arousing and fostering a love for good poetry. In pur- 
suance of this aim, the usual method of beginning with 
the classical types has been^ discarded ; and the opening 
section includes selections dealing with phases of the 
present war, as presenting subject matter not only 
familiar but also interesting to the boy and girl of 
to-day. This affords many " points of contact " for 
the appreciation of poetry as a form of expression. The 
sections naturally most interesting follow next ; for ex- 
ample, the deeds of individual heroes, and great battles 
on land and sea. They have been selected with a view 
to their moving quality, both of matter and of rhythm. 

The last section emphasizes two ideals which make 
for true citizenship in a democracy : high individual en- 
deavor and recognition of the rights of others. These 
are necessary in a society recognizing the real brother- 
hood of man. The good citizen must battle not for his 
own soul only, but for his brother's also. 

It is not expected that formal instruction will be 
(iv) 



PREFACE 

given on each of the included poems. Detailed analysis 
would defeat both of the purposes for which this book 
is intended. But few of the poems in any section should 
be assigned for definite study. Many are simple enough 
to be readily understood by pupils in the first year of 
high school. Others will appeal only to older students. 
The notes, which have purposely been made brief, should 
" place " any poem sufficiently to convey its full message 
or to provide the student with the necessary starting- 
point for further investigation. Most of the narratives 
and lyrics the student should be allowed to enjoy undis- 
turbed by any designed effort to enlarge his vocabu- 
lary, or to add to his collection of facts, historical or 
otherwise. 

Jean Broadhurst, 
Clara Lawton Rhodes. 
April 6, 1919. 



(V) 



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

Acknowledgment of valuable criticism is hereby 
made to Miss Maud Oldham, of the Bayomie High 
School, and to Miss Frances Caldwell HUggins, of the 
Bay Ridge High School, Brooklyn. The volunteer ser- 
vices of Miss Alice Foi*man Wyckoff have relieved the 
editors of many laborious details. To Miss Stella Cen- 
ter, of the Julia Richman High School, New York City, 
the editors wish to express special gratitude for unselfish 
interest and helpful advice. 

Acknowledgment (in the form preferred by the re- 
spective copyright holders) has been made at the end 
of each poem, except where it is obviously unnecessary. 
The illustrations are also credited on the pages on which 
they occur. 

The editors wish to express their sincere thanks to 
the many artists, authors, and publishers who have so 
generously contributed to this collection. Without such 
cooperation, the cost of a volume of this character would 
have been prohibitive. 

Clara Lawton Rhodes, 
Jean Broadhurst. 

New York City, 
Apeil, 1919. 



(vii) 



CONTENTS 

(The following brief explanation of the arrangement or sequence of the 
poems in the several chapters may be of interest to teachers.) 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The •« Last » War 1 

The poems placed first are those in which a singing rhythm 
or the varied elements represented (e.g., "the newly- 
minted corporal," the horses, the aviator, the Red Cross, 
OT the service flag) will be sure to attract and hold the 
interest. Some of the following poems are placed in pairs 
to emphasize their meaning (e.g., "Wireless" and "I 
Wonder What Cervera Thought"); such lyrics as "In 
Flanders Fields" and "Retreat" are grouped together; 
and, since the crusades occupy such a prominent part in 
high school literature, this section ends with a reference 
to the only successful crusade, "Last Christmas in the 
Holy Land." 

n. The Call 39 

This chronological sequence from the Revolutionary 
period to the present is introduced by Lovelace's recog- 
nition that honor should dictate our answer. It closes 
with poems showing that the less active participation of 
woman does not relieve her from loyal response to the call. 

m. Heroes 59 

Greek and Italian (Roman) heroes are given first; the 
English and American heroes follow chronologically ; the 
small number of heroes included from the other countries 
is due to the fact that tales in a foreign tongue lose most 
of their spirit and rhythm in translation. 

IV. On Land and Sea 119 

As in the preceding section, the emphasis is on British 
and American deeds of valor, the order being chronological 
for each of the countries represented. 

V. Dying for One's Cotmtry 169 

The general phases of this topic are followed by French, 
British and American selections, with a final series giving 



CONTENTS 

"the woman's side of it." The true American girl realizes 
that mere passive grieving is but a coward's part. She 
must live for the future good of others, as shown by the 
selection from Tennyson's "The Princess"; and she must 
wear her sorrow as a crown, as described in the last poem, 
"Mourning." 

VI. National Hymns and War Songs 191 

The patriotic selections most popular in the English- 
speaking coimtries are followed by one national song for 
each of our Allies. 

Vn. Home and Country 215 

The home itself and its immediate environment {e.g., the 
garden) are followed by a short lyrical series recognizing 
the hold of the landscape features. These lead to a series 
in which the combined call of home and country are 
closely merged. Tributes to the main participants among 
the Allies follow. The American series ends with several 
poems recognizing that high allegiance is based upon ideals 
rather than birth. 

Vin. The Flag and Freedom 265 

The heart response to "The Stars and Stripes" felt by 
each true American is illustrated by this brief chronologi- 
cal series. Moore's poems on freedom are used as a con- 
crete introduction to Lowell's stanzas on freedom. 

IX. Peace After War 277 

Peace, without rancor, is not the only standard. Peace 
must be an honorable peace — a peace which preserves both 
high ideals and the rights of others, leading thus and only 
thus to a world peace and to world brotherhood. 

X. The True Patriot 291 

Beginning with standards of accomplishment, we have a 
series of impelling poems depicting life as a struggle or 
battle. These are followed by a series emphasizing, first, 
purity in individual ideals and deeds; and second, the need 
for similar standards in community life, such civic virtues 
being recognized as pre-eminent even for military heroes. 
The closing section presents true internationalism or uni- 
versal brotherhood — not the Bolshevik's " I am as good as 
the other man," but the true American's generous " that 
man is as good as I am." 
(x) 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

KUMBER PAGE 

I. The Army and Navy. Wyeth and Reuterdahl. Frontispiece. 
II. The Air Pilot The U. S. Air Service. 16 

III. Freedom's Crusaders Edwin H. Blashfield. 64 

IV. The Washington Monument 96 

V. Lincoln St. Gaudens 128 

VI. Roosevelt: As He Will be Remembered Marcus. 160 

VII. Sir Galahad Sir Frederick Watts. 224 



(xi) 



THE "LAST" WAR 



— «N 



THE KNIGHTS 

Not dust ! Not dust the chivalry, 
The knightly heart of high romance 

Enshrined in ancient poetry. 

Behold, the battlefields of France ! 

****** 

Abbie Farwell, Brown. 
By permission, EIabper's Magazine. 



(2) 



THE "LAST" WAR 
TOMMY TOUJOURS GAI 

When Tommy comes marching, 

Marching across the street, 
There's a little drum inside us 

That goes " beat," " beat," " beat ; " 
There's a little drum inside us 

Sings the things we cannot say. 
As dumb we stand to see him pass, 

Tommy toujours gai. 

Oh, Tommy's cap is tilted 

And a gleam is in his eye ; 
His step it is a j aunty one 

As he goes marching by. 
There are bright eyes at the window 

Just to pass the time of day. 
When Tommy marches through the town, 

Tommy toujours gai. 

When Tommy's o'er the silver streak, 

A happy lad is he ; 
With the boys astride his shoulder 

And the babies at his knee. 
" Ma f oi ! Mais comme il est gentil ! 

Dormez, petit ange, dormez; 
Your Tommy he will come again. 

Tommy toujours gai." 

Sometimes, of course, he's fighting. 

Sometimes, maybe, he's sad. 
When the going's not too easy, 

And there's nothing to be had 
(3) 



« if. 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

But a biscuit for his breakfast, 

And no jam at all for tea. 
Oh, then his thoughts turn wistfulwi»e 

Home across the sea. 

In suit of blue or silver-grey 

He comes again to town. 
His face it is a bit more thin. 

His cheek a shade less brown. 
He leans a little on his stick 

In an unobtrusive way. 
But somehow still he has the air 

Of Tommy to u jours gai. 

Then ladies say a-smiling, 

" Now, Tommy, come with me. 
I'll take you driving in the Park," 

And " Won't you come to tea? " 
Then we all sing " Tipperary " 

And laugh and joke and play. 
Since Tommy's with us once again, 

Tommy tou jours gai. 

But the little drums deride us, 
And the little songs inside us 
Sing the songs we cannot say. 
Sing the words we fain would say. 

W. J. Cameron. 

By parmission, Cameron, War and Life, Chapman <|- Hall, London. 



(4) 



THE "LAST" WAR 

SONG BEFORE SAILING 

Here's to the lads that fight for the King ! 
Here's to the Highlanders, kilts a-swing! 
Here's to the boys from the Only Isle 
Who would die for the sake of their country's smile. 
Here's to our comrades whose courage glows 
Brave as their emblem, the English rose ! 
Shout till the rafters are ringing, 
" Here's to our luck. 
Here's to our pluck, 
On the road we must take on the morrow ! " 

Think on you we have left behind? 
Ay, with many a thought that's kind ! 
You who hid with a miser's fears 
The hard-wrung bitter pence of your tears, 
And gave us instead of your shining gold, 
Smile and good cheer, for our hearts to hold 
As weapons and armour meet for the fight ; 
You, being absent, are with us to-night — 
For we could not have left you behind us. 

So here's to your pluck, 

And here's to good luck, 
On the road we will take on the morrow ! 

Comes an end to the best of the fun ; 
One toast yet ere the f easting's done ! 
Then down with the glasses — crash — on the floor. 
For the hour we have tasted may come no more: — 
" Here's to the sunlit, glad sea-foam, 
And the troop-ship that will one day carry us home ! " 
Some of us only? Well, good lack, 

(5) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

It is bullets alone that can keep us back ! 

But we are not beggars to borrow 

Pence to make show of our sorrow ; 

Though some have the luck, 

And some have — ^just — pluck, 

Yet here's to our road on the morrow ! 

W. J. Cameron. 
By permission, Cameron, Poems^ Longmans, Green §• Co. 



" I CANNA SEE THE SERGEANT » 

I canna see the Sergeant, 
I canna see the Sergeant, 
I canna — see the^ — sergeant, 

He's owre far awa'. 
Bring the wee chap nearer, 
Bring the wee chap nearer, 
O bring the — wee chap — nearer — 

He's owre bloomin' sma'. 

We canna see the sergeant. 
The five foot five inch sergeant, 
We canna — see the — sergeant 

For smoke — and shell — and a' — 
Now we can see him clearer, 
Now we can see him nearer — 
Upon the topmost parapet 

He's foremost o' us a' ! 

We canna see the sergeant. 
The sma' stout-hearted sergeant. 
We canna — see the — sergeant, 
He's dead and gone awa'. 
(6) 



THE "LAST" WAR 

Bring the wee chap nearer, 

Bring the wee chap nearer, 

O he has grown the dearer 

Now that he's far aw a' ! 

Joseph Lee. 
Lee, Ballads of Battle, John Murray, London. 

(To be sung in staccato fashion.) 

COCK YOUR BONNETS 

It was after that black night 

When we'd won our first big fight. 

In the shadow of the pump-mill at Messines, 

That a Brass-Head came and prattled 

To us, feeling pretty rattled 

With the things we'd done, and more with what we'd seen ; 

And he said, — 

" Boys, — keep your bodies clean ! 
Boys, — keep your billets clean ! 
Boys, — cock your bonnets ! 
And, for God's sake, smile ! " 

And it bucked us up tremendous. 

For the Boche had tried to end us. 

Though we'd given him double dose for all we got; 

And we'd gone through our probation, 

And we'd saved a situation, 

And the Big Pot put his finger on the spot : — 

With his,— 

" Boys, — keep your bodies clean ! 
Boys, — keep your billets clean ! 
Boys, — cock your bonnets ! 
And, for God's sake, smile ! " 
(7) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

So we pass it on to you chaps ; — 

When you're fed up with new scraps, 

Just remember what that good old Brass-Head said; 

You'll find it worth your trying, 

Both while living and when dying, 

And you'll surely be the happier when you're dead, — 

If you,— 

Always keep your bodies clean ! 
Always keep your billets clean ! 
Always cock your bonnets. 
And, for God's sake, smile ! 

John Oxenham. 
The Fiery Cross, John Oxenham. 
Copyright 1918, George H. Doran Comfant, Publishers. 

HEROES 

The heroes of the story books are ever in a pose. 

They always die with words of high and lofty verse or 

prose. 
But when the old Tuscania went down with flying flag 
Our khaki gang of heroes sang a gay and foolish rag ! 

" Where do we go from here, boys, where do we go from 

here?" 
Across the sea the melody came dancing free and clear; 
Tkey faced their fate with souls elate and hearts that 

knew no fear, 
With " Where do we go from here, boys, where do we go 

from here ? " 

" Where do we go from here, boys, where do we go from 

here?" 
A song, in truth, of valiant youth, that never loses cheer ; 

(8) 



THE "LAST" WAR 

They felt the breath of clammy death, but with lilt 

sincere 
Their laughing shout rang blithely out, " Where do we 

go from here? " 

It is a tale whose wondrous thrill we all of us can share 
When brave men meet their destiny with spirit debonair. 
What foe can hope with boys to cope who sing, when 

death is near, 
" Where do we go from here, boys, where do we go from 

here?" Berton Braley. 

In Camp and Trench, by Berton Braley. 
Copyright 1918, George H. Doran Company, Publishers. 

THE LITTLE FLAG ON MAIN STREET 

The little flag on Main Street 
Is floating all the day, 
Its stars are fairly sparkling. 
Its stripes are glad and gay. 
It stops the passing zephyrs 
To tell them as they dance: 
" I have a battle brother 
Who flies to-day in France ! " 

The little flag on Main Street 
Is streaming all the night, 
It hails the wheeling planets 
Upon their glowing flight. 
It tells the joyful tidings 
And calls to all its kin : 
" I have a battle brother 
Who marches to Berlin ! " 

McLandburgh Wilson. 
By permission, Wilson, The Little Flag ox Main Street, Mac- 
millan Co. ,„, 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 



THE LITTLE STAR IN THE WINDOW 

There*s a little star in the window of the house across the 
way, 
A little star, red bordered, on a ground of pearly 
white ; 
I can see its gleam at evening ; it is bright at dawn of day. 
And I know it has been shining through the long and 
dismal night. 

The folks who pass the window on the busy city street, 
I often notice, turn a glance before they hurry by ; 
And one, a gray haired woman, made curtsy, low and 
sweet. 
While something like a teardrop was glistening in her 
eye. 

And yesterday an aged man, by life's stem battle spent, 

His empty coat sleeve hanging down, a witness sadly 

mute, 

Gave one swift look and halted — his form full height, 

unbent — 

And ere he passed his hand came up in soldierly salute. 

The little star in the window is aflame with living fire. 
For it was lit at the hearthstone where a lonely mother 
waits; 
And she has stained its crimson with the glow of her 
heart's desire. 
And brightened its pearl-white heaven beyond tlie 
world's dark hates. 

(10) 



THE "LAST" WAR 

The star shall shine through the battle when the shafts 
of death are hurled ; 
It shall shine through the long night watches in the 
foremost trenches' line ; 
Over the waste of waters, and beyond the verge of the 
world, 
Like the guiding Star of the Magi its blessed rays 
shall shine. 

The little star in the window shall beacon your boy's 
return 
As his eyes are set to the homeland, when the call of 
the guns shall cease; 
In the Flag's high constellation through the ages it shall 
bum, 
A pledge of his heart's devotion, a sign of his people's 
peace. 

John Jerome Rodney. 

By 'permission, The New York Sun. 

CORPORAL'S CHEVRONS 

Oh, the General with his shiny stars, leadin' a parade, 
The Colonel and the Adjutant a-sportin' of their braid. 
The Major and the Skipper — none of 'em look so fine 
As a newly minted corp'ral comin' down the line ! 

Oh, the Bishop in his mitre,, pacin' up the aisle. 

The Governor, frock-coated, with a votes-for-women 

smile. 

The Congressman, the Mayor, aren't in it, I opine, 

With a newly minted corp'ral comin' down the line ! 

Anonymous. 
From Yanks, Published by the A. E.F. 

(11) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

THE FIFTEENTH REGIMENT 

Hush, chile, listen ! Ain't dey comin' ? 

Yes, dat is deni comin' now ! 
I can hyeah de crowds hurrahin' — 

I can see de soljahs bow. 
Son, don't think yo' granny's crazy. 

But dat music 'fects my feet, 
When dat fightin' Fifteenth Reg'ment 

Conies a marchin' down de street. 

Lawzee, honey, hyeah dat music ! 

Ain't dem chillen play in' some.'' 
Den jes' look daih in de middle. 

See dat one daih wid de drum ; 
His whole body's in dat playin'. 

From his head down to his feet, 
When dat fightin' Fifteenth Reg'ment 

Conies a marchin' down de street. 

Ain't dey happy, too ; jes' see 'em ; 

Boys, yo' mothah's watchin' you ; 
And I know the Gord in Glory 

Has His eyes upon you, too, 
And dat repperbate " de Kaisah " 

Mout as well expect defeat, 
When you reaches " ovah yondah " 

An' goes marchin' down de street. 

Theodore Henry Shackelford. 
By ptrmission of the Author. 



(12) 



THE "LAST" WAR 



TO THE ANGLO-SAXON AVIATORS 

The pUots of the future peace appear .... 
Riding at will the wild wind's frozen breath. 
They fly into the very face of fear. 
The final foe, that conquered, conquers death. 

Freedom has taken wings ! Her message soars 
Amid the battle wrack through trembHng skies; 
Borne on a myriad flashing planes it roars 
Defiance to the priests of ancient lies. 

Bound by the magic of a connnon tongue, 
America and Britain hurl through space, 
The challenge of democracy resung: 
The mighty pean of a mighty race. 

C. GOUVERNEUE HoFFMAN. 
By permission. 

Copyrighted, 1918, by Scribner's Magazine. 



EAGLE YOUTH 

(1918) 

They have taken his horse and plume, 
They have left him to plod, and fume 
For a hero's scope and room ! 
They have curbed his fighting pride, 
They have bade him burrow and hide 
With a million, side by side: 

Look — into the air he springs, 

Fighting with wings ! 
(13) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

He has found a way to be free 

Of that dim immensity 

That would swallow up such as he : 

Who would burrow when he could fly ? 

He will climb up into the sky, 

And the world shall watch him die ! 

Only his peers may dare 

Follow him there ! 

Karle Wilson Baker. 
By permission, Book of Yale Review Verse. 



HOME IS WHERE THE PIE IS 

" Home is where the heart is " — 
Thus the poet sang; 
But " home is where the pie is " 
For the doughboy gang. 
Crullers in the craters, 
Pastry in abris — 
Our Salvation Army lass 
Sure knows how to please! 

Watch her roll the pie crust 
Mellower than gold; 
Watch her place it neatly 
Within its ample mold ; 



In a region blasted 
By fire and flame and sword. 
Our Salvation Army lass 
Battles for the Lord! 

(14) 



THE "LAST" WAR 

Call me sacrilegious, 

And irreverent, too ; 

Pies? They link us up with home 

As naught else can do ! 

" Home is where the heart is " — 

True, the poet sang ; 

But " Home is where the pie is " 

To the Yankee gang ! 



Anonymous. 



From Yanks, Published by the A. E.F. 



BOTH WORSHIPPED THE SAME GREAT NAME 

Jack Smith belonged to the Y. M. C. A., 
Pat Sheehan to the K. of C. 
Both marched away 'neath the flag one day 
To fight for the Land of the Free. 

Hi * Ik ^ * * 

While Jack stood straight as he humbly prayed, 
Pat knelt at a candled shrine ; 

But the same great God heard each whispered word 
That barkens to yours and mine. 

^ ^ r^ W f^ W 

Each bullet its billet has got, they say, 
And always will find some mark ; 
And Pat and Jack in a trench mud black 
Lay side by side in the dark. 
Their life's blood ebbed with a falling tide 
As they came toward the Great Unknown ; 
But hand in hand from that far-off land 
They knew they were not alone. 
(15) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

So "over the top" to the Glory Side, 

Where never is war nor tears — 

Where the true and tried in God's love abide 

With nothing of doubts nor fears. 

And the God they met as they entered in 

Where the souls of all men are free 

Was the God of Jack's Y. M. C. A. 

And the God of Pat's K. of C. 

Anonymous. 



THE RED CROSS NURSE 

The battle smoke still fouled the day, 
With bright disaster flaming through; 

Unchecked, absorbed, she held her way — 
The whispering death still past her flew. 

A cross of red was on her sleeve; 

And here she stayed, the wound to bind. 
And there, the fighting soul relieve. 

That strove its Unknown Peace to find. 

A cross of red yet one has dreamed 

Of her he loved and left in tears ; 
But into dying sight she seemed 

A visitant from other spheres. 

The whispering death — it nearer drew; 

It holds her heart in strict arrest, 
And where was one, are crosses two — 

A crimson cross is on her breast ! 

Edith M. Thomas. 
By permission, Thomas, The White Messenger, The Four Seas Co. 

(16) 




ABOVE TIIK CLOUDS 

The pilots of the future peace appear . . . 
Riding at will the wind's frozen breath. 

— C. GowemeuT Hoffman (p. 13) 
Photograph by U. S. Air Service, Lake Charles, La. 



THE "LAST" WAR 

CANADIANS 

With arrows on their quarters and with numbers on their 

hoofs, 
With the trampling sound of twenty that re-echoes in the 

roofs, 
Low of crest and dull of coat, wan and wild of eye, 
Through our English village the Canadians go by. 

Shying at a passing cart, swerving from a car, 
Tossing up an anxious head to jBaunt a snowy star, 
Racking at a Yankee gait, reaching at the rein. 
Twenty raw Canadians are tasting life again ! 

Hollow-necked and hollow-flanked, lean of rib and hip, 
Strained and sick and weary with the wallow of the ship. 
Glad to smell the turf again, hear the robin*s call, 
Tread again the country road they lost at Montreal ! 

Fate may bring them dule and woe; better steeds than 

they 
Sleep beside the English guns a hundred leagues away ; 
But till war hath need of them, lightly lie their reins, 
Softly fall the feet of them along the English lanes. 

Will H. Ogilvie. 
By permission, Country Life, London. 

HERE: AND THERE 

September, 1914 

HERE 

Soft benediction of September sun ; 
Voices of children, laughing as they run ; 
Green English lawns, bright flowers and butterflies ; 
And over all the blue embracing skies. 
2 (17) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

THERE 

Tumult and roaring of the incessant gun ; 
Dead men and dying, trenches lost and won ; 
Blood, mud, and havoc, bugles, shoutings, cries ; 
And over all the blue embracing skies. 

F. W. BOUEDILLON. 
By permission, Christmas Roses for 1914, A. L. Humphreys, 
London. 



THE OLD KINGS 

All of the Old Kings 

Are wakened from their sleep, 
Arthur out of Avalon, 

Ogier from the deep, 
Redbeard from his Dragon-Rock, 

Sigurd from his fen. . . . 
" Is it time" they rise and cry, 
" To lead our hosts again? " 

They have donned their winged helms, 

They would rise and reign, 
The young king Sebastian, 

The old king Charlemagne, 
Harold with his great bow, 

Roland with his horn . . . 
Men who heard their horses' hoofs 

Many a scarlet morn ! 

The Old Kings have risen. . . . 

Where the hosts advance 
Redbeard cries his Germans on, 

Karle cries out for France, 

(18) 



THE "LAST" WAR 

Up and down the battlefield 

Ghostly armies beat, 
Stilly down the gray sea glides 

Olaf's shadow-fleet: 

Up and down the red fields 

Men have seen them go, 
Seen the long plumes on the wind, 

Seen the pennons flow, 
Harry out of Agincourt 

Sends his bowmen wide, 
Joan that has forgiven them 

Battles at their side. . . . 



Christ, King of Paradise, 

Hasten with Thy hosts. 
Angels all in silver mail, 

Saints and blessed ghosts, 
Cry the long swords sheathed again. 

Cry the pennons furled. 
Lest under Ragnarok 
Lie the shattered world ! 

Margaret Widdemer. 
By 'permission, Widdemer, The Old Road to Paradise, Henry 
Holt 4f Co. 



THE VOLUNTEER 

Here lies a clerk who half his life had spent 
Toiling at ledgers in a city grey. 
Thinking that so his days would drift away 
With no lance broken in life's tournament; 

(19) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Yet ever 'twixt the books and his bright eyes 
The gleaming eagles of the legions came, 
And horsemen, charging under phantom skies, 
Went thundering past beneath the oriflamme. 

And now those waiting dreams are satisfied ; 
From twilight into spacious dawn he went ; 
His lance is broken, but he lies content 
With that high hour, in which he lived and died. 
And falling thus he wants no recompense, 
Who found his battle in the last resort ; 
Nor needs he any hearse to bear him hence. 
Who goes to join the men of Agincourt. 

Herbert Asquith. 
Asquith, The Volunteer and Other Poems, Sidgwick ^ Jackson, 
London. 



PERSHING AT THE TOMB OF LAFAYETTE 

They knew they were fighting our war. As the months 

grew to years 
Their men and their women had watched through their 

blood and their tears 
For a sign that we knew, we who could not have come to 

be free 
Without France, long ago. And at last from the threat- 
ening sea 
The stars of our strength on the eyes of their weariness 

rose. 
And he stood among them, the sorrow-strong hero we 

chose 
To carry our flag to the tomb of that Frenchman whose 

nam« 

(20) 



THE "LAST" WAR 

A man of our country could once more pronounce without 

shame. 
What crown of rich words would be set for all times on 

this day? 
The past and the future were listening what he would 

say — 
Only this, from the white-flaming heart of a passion 

austere, 
Only this — ah, but France understood ! " Lafayette, we 

are here," 

Amelia Josephine Burr. 
The Silver Trumpet, Amelia Josephine Burr. 
Copyright 1018, George H. Doran Co., Publishers. 

SALUTATION 

Fill a cup to Belgium, 

Hail — was hail! 
She who found the hidden shrine 

Of the Holy Grail. 

Drink a cup to Belgium, 

Drink — drink hail! 
Nay, the cup is red within 

As the sunset's trail ! 

Who can drink of Belgium's cup.'' 

Hail — was hail! 
It is brimmed with blood and tears ; 

Is not this the Grail? 

Lift the cup to Belgium, 

Drink — drink hail! 
Nay, she drained it all alone — 

She who dared not fail. 

(21) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

For the Knight who is her King — 

Hail — mas hail! 
Held it, smiling, to her lips, 

Eager lips, though pale. 

Bend the knee to Belgiumi, 

Drink — drink hail! 
See, her cup is all alight, — 
She hath found the Grail ! 

Makion Couthguy Smith. 
By permission. Smith, The Fikal Star, James T. White Co. 



WIRELESS 

There sits a little demon 

Above the Admiralty, 
To take the news of seamen 

Seafaring on the sea ; 
So all the folk aboard-ships 

Five hundred miles away 
Can pitch it to their Lordships 

At any time of day. 

The cruisers prowl observant. 

Their crackling whispers go ; 
The demon says, " Your servant," 

And lets their Lordships know ; 
A fog's come down off Flanders.'' 

A something showed off Wick.'' 
The captains and commanders 

Can speak their Lordships quick. 
(22) 



THE "LAST" WAR 

The demon sits a-waking; 

Look up above Whitehall 
E'en now, mayhap, he's taking 

The Greatest Word of all ; 
From smiling folk aboard-ships 

He ticks it off the reel : — 
" An' may it please your Lordships, 

A fleet's put out o' Kiel ! " 

Anonymous. 

Reprinted by permission of London Punch. 



I WONDER WHAT CERVERA THOUGHT 
(November 21, 1918) 

I wonder what Cervera thought 
When, to the wide and silent sea, 
That dull November morning brought 
The broken fleet of Gennany : — 
Those dumb gray hulks that never knew 
The glory of a hope forlorn, 
Whose long dishonored banners flew 
Only to feel their foemen's scorn. 

I wonder what Cervera thought 
While unbelieving waters bore 
Those craven ships that never fought 
To anchor by a hostile shore : — 
Those great tall ships, alive with men 
Who shamed that knighthood of the wave 
Whose trust they shall not know again 
Nor the high councils of the brave. 
(23) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

I wonder what Cervera thought 

When, from the portals of the sky, 

His swift far-ranging vision caught 

That host of men afraid to die. 

I wonder what Cervera thought, 

Of that armada moving there 

In strange and sullen safety ; — bought 

With the one thing he did not dare ! 

Harold Trowbridge Pulsifer. 
By permission, The Outlook. 



THE WHITE SHIPS AND THE RED 



I went not forth to battle, 
I carried friendly men. 
The children played about my decks, 
The women sang — and then — 
And then — the sun blushed scarlet 
And heaven hid its face, 
The world that God created 
Became a shameful place! 

My wrong cries out for vengeance, 
The blow that sent me here 
Was aimed in Hell. My dying scream 
Has reached Jehovah's ear. 
Not all the seven oceans 
Shall wash away the stain ; 
Upon a brow that wears a crown 
I am the brand of Cain. 
(24) 



THE "LAST" WAR 

When God's great voice assembles 
The fleet on Judgment Day, 
The ghosts of ruined ships will ris« 
In sea and strait and bay. 
Though they have lain for ages 
Beneath the changeless flood, 
They shall be white as silver, 
But one — shall be like blood. 

Joyce Kilmer. 
By permission, The New Yokk Times. 
Joyce Kilmer: Poems, Essays and Letters, with Memoir by R. C. 

Holliday. 
Copyright 1914, 1917 and 1918, by George H. Doran Co., Publisherg. 



CHILDREN OF FRANCE 

Dear little sad-eyed children of France, 
Once on a time, when the world was gay, 

In the streets of Paris you danced and sang, 
God grant you again a happy day, 
Sad little children of France. 

Wan little weary-eyed children of France, 
In the streets of Paris you knelt to-day. 

Knelt at the sight of a succoring flag. 

Knelt in the streets where you used to play, 
Heart-broken children of France. 

We are thinking to-day of the long ago, 
Kneeling children, beyond the sea. 

When your fathers came, with hearts aflftmc, 
To us, in the name of liberty. 
Fatherless children of France. 
(25) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Fair by the side of the Red, White and Blue, 
The Stars and Stripes in your streets are a-blow ! 

Never so beautiful, now they glow 

In the name of that help of the long ago. 
Kneeling babies of France. 

You knelt in your streets as our flag went by — 
Our flag with a glory strangely new. 

The stars of heaven gleamed in its folds, 
Strewn but to-day in that field of blue, 
For you, O children of France ! 

Dear little war-smitten children of France, 

In our hearts is a prayer as the flag goes by — 

For the flag we have vowed to a glorious quest. 

For the flag aflame on a far away sky, 

For God — and the babies of France. 

Gertrude Robinson. 
By ptrmistion, Life. 



AMERICA AT WAR 

America, 

If thy sons can go to war 

Thinking — 

If men democracy-trained can fight 

And not glory in it 

But earnestly regret that war must bt 

If they can follow thy banner 

And know 

That its red does not represent blood 

But sunrise, 

(26) 



THE "LAST" WAR 

That its white 

Is not death but deliverance, 

That its stars 

Are not pilots for warships 

But makers of poetry — 

O America, 

Then shall democracy conquer 

And war shall never more be. 

Gerteude Smith. 
By 'permiation, The Poets of the Future, Stratford Co. 

YOUNG FELLOW MY LAD 
" Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad, 
On this glittering morn of May? " 
" I'm going to join the Colours, Dad ; 
They're looking for men, they say." 
" But you're only a boy, Young Fellow My Lad ; 
You aren't obliged! to go." 
" I'm seventeen and a quarter. Dad, 
And ever so strong, you know." 

" So you're off to France, Young Fellow My Lad, 

And you're looking so fit and bright." 

" I'm terribly sorry to leave you. Dad, 

But I feel that I'm doing right." 

" God bless you and keep you. Young Fellow My Lad ; 

You're all of my life, you know," 

" Don't worry. I'll soon be back, dear Dad, 

And I'm awfully proud to go." 

" Why don't you write. Young Fellow My Lad? 
I watch for the post each day ; . 
And I miss you so, and I'm awfully sad, 
And it's months since you went away. 

(27) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

And I've had the fire in the parlour lit, 
And I'm keeping it burning bright 
Till my boy comes home ; and here I sit 
Into the quiet night." 

" What is the matter, Young Fellow My Lad ; 

No letter again to-day. 

Why did the postman look so sad, 

And sigh as he turned away? 

I hear them tell that we've gained new ground. 

But a terrible price we've paid : 

God grant, mj' boy, that you're safe and sound ; 

But, oh, I'm afraid, afraid." 

" They've told me the truth, Young Fellow My Lad ; 

You'll never come back again : 

{Oh God! the dreams and the dreams I've had, 

Aiid the hopes Fve nursed in vain!) 

For you passed in the night, Young Fellow My Lad, 

And you proved in the cruel test 

Of the screaming shell and the battle hell 

That my boy was one of the best. 

" So you'll live, you'll live. Young Fellow My Lad, 

In the gleam of the evening star. 

In the wood-note wild and the laugh of the child, 

In all sweet things that are. 

And you'll never die, my wonderful boy, 

While life is noble and true; 

For all our beauty and hope and joy 

We will owe to our lads like you." 

Robert W. Service. 
Fr»m Rhymes of a Red Cross Man, by Robert W. Service, pub- 
lished by Bars* ^ Hopkins, New York. 

(28) 



THE "LAST" WAR 
HEROES 

Ready with his eager life 

Enemies to quell, 
Giving all for Uncle Sam, 

Facing shot and shell, 
Bound to march on any foe, 

Though the road be rough, 
Cheer for Johnny Leg-away, 

Made of hero stuff ! 

Yet remember while you thrill 

To the tramping feet. 
In the breasts of stay-at-homes 

Soldier hearts may beat. 
Battles of the commonplace 

Rage the struggle through, 
Cheer for Johnny Peg-away, 

He's a hero, too ! 

McLandbubgh Wilson. 

By permission, Wilson, The Little Flag on Main Street, Uae- 
millan Co. 



THE NEW CRUSADE 

Life is a trifle; 

Honor is all; 
Shoulder the rifle; 

Answer the call. 
" A nation of traders! " 

We'll show what we are, 
Freedom's crusaders 

Who war against war. 
(29) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Battle is tragic ; 

Battle shall cease; 
Ours is the magic 

Mission of Peace. 
"A nation of traders!" 

We'll show what zee are. 
Freedom's crusaders 

Who war against war. 
Gladly we barter 

Gold of our youth 
For Liberty's charter 

Blood-sealed in truth. 
"*4 nation of traders!" 

We'll show what we are. 
Freedom's crusaders 

Who war against war. 
Sons of the granite, 

Strong be our stroke, 
Making this planet 

Safe for the folk. 
"A nation of traders!" 

We'll sJiow what we are. 
Freedom's crusaders 

Who war against war. 
Life is but passion, 

Sunshine on dew, 
Forward to fashion 

The old world anew ! 
" A nation of traders! " 

We'll show what we are. 
Freedom's crusaders 

Who war against war. 

Katharine Lee Bates. 
By ptrmisiion. Bates, The Retinue, E. P. Button ^ Co. 

(30) 



THE "LAST" WAR 
WAR'S ALCHEMY 

There is more gold on earth to-day 

Than there has been before, 
The golden love of country, 

Made out of iron of war, 
The greater love of homestead 

Since it has suffered wrong 
And he who once sang lyrics, 

Now has a deeper song ; 
The epic of his homeland, 

America, the free! 
Drink from her gleaming stirrup-cup, 

Riders to Liberty! 

Isabel Fiske Conant. 
By permission, Contemporary Verse. 



VIVE LA FRANCE ♦ 

Franceline rose in the dawning gray, 
And her heart would dance though she knelt to pray. 
For her man Michel had holiday. 
Fighting for France. 

She offered her prayer by the cradle-side. 
And with baby palms folded in hers she cried : 
" If I have but one prayer, dear, crucified 
Christ — save France ! " 



*By permission, copyright 1919 by Scribner's Maoazixe. 

(31) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

" But if I have two, then, by Mary's grace, 
Carry me safe to the meeting-place ; 
liCt me look once again on my dear love's face, 
Save him for France ! " 

She crooned to her boy : " Oh, how glad he'll be, 
Little three-months old, to set eyes on thee ! 
For, ' Rather than gold, would I give,' wrote he, 
' A son to France.' " 

" Come, now, be good, little stray smiterelle. 
For we're going by-by to thy papa Michel ; 
But I'll not say where for fear thou wilt tell, 
Little pigeon of Friance ! " 

" Six days' leave and a year between ! 
But what would you have? In six days clean, 
Heaven was made," said Franceline, 
" Heaven and France." 

She eame to the town of the nameless name; 
To the marching troops in the street she came. 
And she held high her boy like a taper flame 
Burning for France. 

Fr«ih from the trenches and gray with grime. 
Silent they march like a pantomime; 
" But what ne«d of music? M}' heart beats time- 
Vive la France ! '* 

His regiment comes. Oh, then, where is he? 
" There is dust in my eyes, for I cannot see, — 
Is that my Michel to the right of thee. 
Soldier of France? " 
(32) 



THE "LAST" WAR 

Then out of the ranks a comrade fell, — 
" Yesterday — 'twas a splinter of shell — 
And he whispered thy name, did thy poor Michel, 
Dying for France." 

The tread of the troops on the pavement throbbed 
Like a woman's heart of its last joy robbed, 
As she lifted her boy to the flag, and sobbed : 
" Vive la France ! " 

Charlotte Holmes Crawford. 



THE NIGHTINGALES OF FLANDERS 

The nightingales of Flanders, 
They have not gone to war ; 
A soldier heard them singing 
Where they had sung before. 

The earth was torn and quaking. 
The sky about to fall ; 
The nightingales of Flanders, 
They minded not at all. 

At intervals he heard them, 
Between the guns, he said. 
Making a thrilling music 
Above the listening dead. 

Of woodland and of orchard 

And roadside tree bereft, 

The nightingales of Flanders 

Were singing, " France is left ! " 

Grace Hazard Conkljng. 
By permission, Eveeybody's Magazine, Ridgway Co. 

3 (33) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 
THE TREES OF FRANCE 

Hush, little leaves, your springtime dance, 
Sigh for the murdered trees of France. 



Friends were they of the peasant folk, 
Friends whom the birds and kine bespoke. 



Spoil are they of destroying lust, 
Not of the battle stroke and thrust. 

They are a garden still to see, 
They are the world's Gethsemane. 

Hush, little leaves, your springtime dance. 
Sigh for the murdered trees of France. 

McLandburgh Wilson. 
By permission, Wilson, The Little Flag on Main Street, Mac- 
millan Company. 



RETREAT 

Broken, bewildered by the long retreat 
Across the stifling leagues of southern plain, 
Across the scorching leagues of trampled grain, 
Half-stunned, half-blinded by the trudge of feet 
And dusty smother of the August heat. 
He dreamt of flowers in an English lane, 
Of hedgerow flowers glistening after rain — 
All-heal and willowherb and meadowsweet. 
(34) 



THE "LAST" WAR 

All-heal and!,willowherb and meadowsweet. 
The innocent names kept up a cool refrain, 
All-heal and willowherb and meadowsweet, 
Chiming and tinkling in his aching brain 
Until he babbled like a child again — 
" All-heal and willowherb and meadowsweet." 

Wilfrid Wilson Gibson. 
By permission, Oibson, Collected Poems, Macmillan Co. 



POPPIES 

Poppies in the wheat fields of the pleasant fields of 

France, 
Reddening in the summer breeze that bids them nod and 

dance ; 
Over them the skylark sings his lilting, liquid tune — 
Poppies in the wheat fields, and all the world in June. 



See the stalwart Yankee lads, never ones to blench. 
Poppies in their helmets as they clear the shallow 

trench — 
Leaping down the furrows with eager, boyish tread. 
Through the poppied wheat fields to the flaming woods 

ahead. 

Poppies in the wheat fields as sinks the summer sun — 
Broken, bruised and trampled — ^but the bitter day is 

won; 
Yonder in the woodland where the flashing rifles shine. 
With their poppies in their helmets, the front files hold 

the line. 

(35) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Poppies in the wheat field ; how still beside them lie 
Scattered forms that stir not when the star shells burst 

on high ; 
Gently bending o'er them beneath the moon's soft glance, 
Poppies of the wheat fields on the ransomed hills of 

France. 

Capt. Joseph Mills Hanson, 
From Yanks, Published by the A. E. F. 

IN FLANDERS FIELDS 

In Flanders fields the poppies grow 

Between the crosses, row on row, 

That mark our place, and in the sky, 
The larks, still bravely singing, fly. 

Scarce heard amid the guns below. 

We are the dead ; short days ago 
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, 
Loved and were loved, and now we lie 

In Flanders fields. 
Take up our quarrel with the foe ! 
To you from failing hands we throw 

The torch ; be yours to hold it high ! 

If ye break faith with us who die 

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow 

In Flanders fields. 

LiEUT.-CoL. John McCrae. 
By permission of Pukch and The New York Times. 

DEATH AND THE FAIRIES 

Before I joined the Army 
I lived in Donegal, 
Where every night the Fairies 
Would hold their carnival. 
(36) 



THE "LAST" WAR 

But now I'm out in Flanders, 
Where men like wheat-ears fall, 
And it's Death and not the Fairies 
Who is holding carnival. 

Patrick MacGill. 
By permission, MacOill, Soldier Songs, E. P. Button ^ Co. 

THE KINGS 

Three kings riding f«rth of old 
(Myrrh and frankincense and gold), 

Three kings waiting fearful dawn 
Where the battle-lines are drawn. 

Kings of bloody strife, how far 
You have wandered from your star ! 

Henry William Hoyne. 
By permission, The Century Magazine. 

THE GERMAN-AMERICAN 

Honor to him whose very blood remembers 
The old, enchanted dream-song of the Rhine, 
Although his house of life is fair with shine 
Of fires new-kindled on the buried embers ; 

Whose heart is wistful for the flowers he tended 
Beside his mother, for the carven gnome 
And climbing bear and cuckoo-clock of home. 
For the whispering forest path two lovers wended; 

Who none the less, still strange in speech and manner. 
With our young Freedom keeps his plighted faith, 
Sides with his children's hope against the wraith 
Of his own childhood, hails the starry Banner 
(37) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

As emblem of his country now, to-morrow ; 
A patriot by duty, not by birth. 
The costliest loyalty has purest worth. 
Honor to him who draws the sword in sorrow ! 

Katherine Lee Bates. 
By permission, Drums and Fifes, The Vigilaxtes' Book, published 

by Doran, New York. 
By permission, Bates, The Retinue, E. P. Dittton tj Co. 

LAST CHRISTMAS IN THE HOLY LAND 

They are coming out of Egypt and they seek the Prom- 
ised Land 

Through the desert and the lions that are standing in 
the way. 

Hark ! I hear the Tommies, cheering to the music of the 
band; 

" Carry on ! " the captain's calling, " Carrj' on ! " and 
" Clear the way ! " 

They have taken Gath and Ashdod and old Ascalon as 

well. 
The places where the Philistines so fondly loved to 

dwell ; 
They have got the gates of Gaza, and advancing in their 

wrath 
They smite the Hun as David smote Goliath of old Gath. 

They have entered little Bethlehem with joy for Christ- 
mas Day, 

They are in the Holy City with a prayer no words may 
say. 

God keep you, young Crusaders ! away beyond the sea ; 

He led you through the desert and Jerusalem is free. 

Andrew F. West. 
By permission, copyrighted 1919 by Scribner's Magazine. 

(38) 



THE CALL 



SACRIFICE 

Though love repine, and reason chafe. 
There came a voice without reply, — 
'Tis man's perdition to be safe, 
When for the truth he ought to die. 

Ralph Waldo Kmerson. 

/?_!/ ;>( rmiV.s'ioH of, nnj bi/ .tperial anatnjemeni with, Iloutjlilon 
Mifflin Co., from Emorsoii's Pok.'ms. 



(40) 



THE CALL 

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS 

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind — 

That from the nunnery 
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind 

To war and arms I fly. 

True, a new mistress now I chase — 

The first foe in the field ; 
And with a stronger faith embrace 

A sword, a horse, a shield. 

Yet this inconstancy is such 

As you, too, should adore ; 
I could not love thee, dear, so much, 

Loved I not honor more. 

RicHAED Lovelace. 

MEN OF THE NORTH 

Men of the North, look up ! 

There's a tumult in your sky ; 
A troubled glory surging out. 

Great shadows hurrying by. 



Men of the North, awake ! 

Ye're called to from the deep ; 
Trumpets in every breeze — 

Yet there ye lie asleep. 

A stir in every tree, 

A shout from every wave; 
A challenging on every side, 

A moan from every grave: 
(41) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

A battle in the sky ; 

Ships thundering through the air — 
Jehovah on the march — 

Men of the North, to prayer ! 



John Neal. 



OUR COUNTRY'S CALL 

Lay down the axe, fling by the spade : 

Leave in its track the toiling plough ; 
The rifle and the bayonet-blade 

For arms like yours were fitter now ; 
And let the hands that ply the pen 

Quit the light task, and learn to wield 
The horseman's crooked brand, and rein 

The charger on the battle-field. 



Few, few were they whose swords, of old, 

Won the fair land in which we dwell ; 
But we are many, we who hold 

The grim resolve to guard it well. 
Strike for that broad and goodly land, 

Blow after blow, till men shall see 
That Might and Right move hand in hand 

And glorious must their triumph be. 

William Cullen Bryant. 
By permission. Poetical Works, D. Appleton 4" fo. 

(42) 



THE^CALL 

THE REVEILLE 

Hark ! I hear the tramp of thousands, 

And of armed men the hum ; 
Lo ! a nation's hosts have gathered 
Round the quick-alarming drum — 
Saying: " Come, 
Freemen, come! 
Ere your heritage be wasted," said the quick-alarming 
drum. 

" Let me of my heart take counsel : 

War is not of life the sum ; 
Who shall stay and reap the harvest 
^Vhen the autumn days shall come? " 
But the drum 
Echoed: "Come! 
Death shall reap the braver harvest," said the solemn- 
sounding drum. 

" But when won the coming battle. 

What of profit springs therefrom? 
What if conquest, subjugation, 
Even greater ills become? " 
But the drum 
Answered : " Come ! 
You must do the sum to prove it," said the Yankee- 
answering drum. 

" What if, 'mid the cannon's thunder, 

Whistling shot and bursting bomb. 
When my brothers fall around me. 

Should my heart grow cold and numb? " 

(43) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

But the drum 
Answered : " Come ! 
Better tliere in death united than in life a recreant — 
Come ! " 

Thus they answered — hoping, fearing, 

Some in faith and doubting some. 
Till a trumpet-voice proclaiming, 
Said : " My chosen people, come ! " 
Then the drum, 
Lo ! was dumb ; 
For the great heart of the nation, throbbing, answered : 
" Lord, we come ! " 

Bret Harte. 

By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co., from Uarte's Complete Poems. 



THE SPIRIT OF MAN 

Bring me my Bow of burning gold ! 

Bring me my Arrows of desire ! 
Bring me my Spear ! O clouds, unfold ! 

Bring me my Chariot of Fire ! 

I will not cease from Mental Fight, 
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand. 

Till we have built Jerusalem 

In England's green and pleasant land. 

Blake. 

From Milton, " The Spirit of Man," Anthology. 

(44) 



THE CALL 

WAR SONG. 

Up with the flag of the Stripes and Stars ! 

Gather together from plough and from loom ! 
Hark to the signal ! — the music of wars 

Sounding for tyrants and traitors their doom. 
Brothers unite — rouse in your might, 

For Justice and Freedom, for God and the Right ! 

****** 

Land of the Free — that our Fathers of old, 
Bleeding! together, cemented in blood — 

Give us thy blessing, as brave and as bold, 
Standing like one, as our ancestors stood — 

Conquer or fall ! Hark to the call ; 

Justice and freedom for one and for all ! 

Workmen arise ! There is work for us now ; 

Ours the red ledger for bayonet pen ; 
Sword be our hammer, and cannon our plough ; 

Liberty's loom must be manned with men, 
Freemen ! we fight, roused in our might, 
For Justice and Freedom, for God and the Right ! 

W. W. Story. 

TO THE UNITED STATES 

O thousand years of Britain's pride, 
One hundred of your own. 
Of throbbing fires of liberty 
Bred in your blood and bone ; 
O stalwart 'mid the nations 
To-day alone you stand. 
The fate and being of a world 
Within your puissant hand. 
(45) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

And shall the scale say bloodshed, 

Or shall the word be peace? 

Shall brute and blind and cruel Force 

Rule, or his thunders cease? 

Shall man go back a century, 

And dream an alien dream. 

Of clashing arms, of sabre stroke, 

Of leaguered shore agleara? 

Or shall the world go forward 

To wisdom and surcease 

Of brutal strife, to the higher life 

Of brotherhood and peace? 

O thousand years of Britain's pride, 

One hundred of your own. 

Child of the greatest mother-stock 

The world hath ever known ; 

Who hold within your honor. 

Who keep athwart your pride. 

The hope or wrecking of a world ; 

Hold back the bloody tide! 

Show men that justice, patience. 

Are nobler far than hate. 

You with your million valiant hearts 

Entrenched by each sea-gate. 

You who could hurl the eastern world 

Back into either sea, 

Show, greater far than iron force, 

'Tis peace that rules the free. 

That far from western granite gates 

(46) 



THE CALL 

Old battles' smoke hath blown; 

Thou thousand years of Britain's pride, 

One hundred of your own. 

Wilfred Campbell, 
By permission, Campbell, Collected Poems, Fleming H. Revell Co. 

TO ENGLAND 

Mother, we come from beyond the sea. 
Whom you bore in the distant past, 
Unloving children of thine were we, 
But flesh of thy flesh at the last. 

We came not for thy deep bruised breast, 
For the pain in thy valiant cry, 
But we come at last for our own soul's rest 
Lest the soul of England die. 

Now from camp and from keen gray fleet 
Our war flags also fly. 
You hear the throb of our marching feet — 
Mother ! Thy sons are nigh. 

Now in the watch for morning dim, 

Througii the beats of the shrapnel's drum. 

You hear the surge of our battle hymn^ — 

Mother! We come! We come! 

William Bakewell Whaeton. 
Btf permission, copyrighted 1918 by Scribner's Maoazixe. 

THE DEBT 

For the youth they gave and the blood they gave, 

For the strength that was our stay. 
For every marked or nameless grave 

On the steel-torn Flanders way — 
We who are whole of body and soul 

We have a debt to pay. 

(47) 



VERSE FOR^PATRIOTS 

When we have justly given back again 

To the maimed body and bewildered brain, 

New strength and light and will to take one's part 

In the world's work at field or desk or mart, 

When this old joy of living we restore. 

We shall have paid a little of our score. 

When we have given to earth's stricken lands 
The service of our minds and hearts and hands. 
When we have made the blackened orchards bright, 
And brought the homeless ones to warmth and light, 
When we have made these desolate forget, 
We shall have paid a little of our debt. 

For the youth they gave and the blood they gave 

We must render back the due ; 
For every marked or nameless grave 

W^e must pay a service true : 
Till the scales stand straight with even weight 

And the world' is a world made new. 

Theodosia Garrison. 
By 'permission. The Red Cross Magazine. 



APRIL 2, 1917 

We have been patient — and they named us weak; 
We have been silent — and they judged us meek. 
Now, in the much-abused high name of God, 
We speak. 

Oh, not with faltering or uncertain tone — 
With chosen words we make our meaning known. 
That like a great wind from the West shall shake 
The double throne. 

(48) 



THE CALL 

Our colors flame upon the topmost mast, — 
We lift the glove so arrogantly cast, 
And in the much-abused high name of God 
We speak at last. 

Theodosia Garrison. 
By permission, Drums and Fifes, The Vigilantes' Book, copy- 
right 1917, George H. Doran Co., Publishers. 



THE PATRIOTS 

The earth was thirsty— it fain would drink, 
A patriot watered it well with ink. 
For he was a critical cautious man. 
With many a well considered plan, 
But out of the mud there came to pass 
No greening beauty, no blade of grass. 

The earth was thirsty — the drouth of years, 
A patriot watered it well with tears ; 
A good man he, with a tender heart, 
Who knew not war was a needful part. 
But out of the sodden soil there grew 
But rosemary sad and grieving rue. 

The earth was thirsty — it craved a flood, 
A patriot watered it well with blood. 
The blood of valorous clear-eyed youth 
Who died for honour and Flag and truth. 
And laurel sprang from the crimsoned sod 
And lilies of peace grew up to God. 

McLandburgh Wilson. 
By permission, Wilson, The Little Flag on Main Street, Mac- 
m,illan Co, 

4 (49) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 



THE ANSWER 

There is one answer to all dreams of ease — 

Belgium ! 
One answer to the Teuton's cunning pleas — 

Belgium ! 
One test and touchstone for all hearts that feel ; 
One word that is a stroke of steel on steel, 
A stroke whose clangor sets a long note ringing 
That falls upon our ears like distant singing. 

One word for you who say that strife must cease — 

Belgium ! 
Justice to her must hold the key of peace — 

Belgium ! 
And you who clamor that our cry should be 
Not love of country but Humanity, 
Have you not heard it, as you pass unheeding? 
Humanity ! In her the world lies bleeding ! 

Not she alone the dark decree must know — 

Belgium ! 
The first in that great sisterhood of woe — 

Belgium ! 
She speaks, my Country, with your own lost dead ; 
She brings one answer to your shrinking dread ; 
Draw now your sword, and set the clear stroke ringing 
That falls upon our hearts like mighty singing! 

Belgium ! 

Mabion Couthouy Smith. 
By permission, Smith, The Final Stah, James T. White Co. 



(60) 



THE CALL 

A SCRAP OF PAPER 

" Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper? " — 
Question of the German Chancellor to the British Am- 
bassador, August 5, 19H. 

A mocking question ! Britain's answer came 
Swift as the light and searching as the flame. 

" Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight 

Till our last breath ; and God defend the right ! 

" A scrap of paper where a name is set 

Is strong as duty's pledge and honor's debt. 

" A scrap of paper holds for man and wife 
The sacrament of love, the bond of life. 

" A scrap of paper may be Holy Writ 
With God's eternal word to hallow it. 

" A scrap of paper binds us both to stand 
Defenders of a neutral neighbor land. 

" By God, by faith, by honor, yes ! We fight 
To keep our name upon that paper white." 

Heney Van Dyke. 

From The Red Flowek, copyright 1918, by Charles Scribner's Sons. 
By permission of the ptiblishers. 

AN INVOCATION 
That little children may in safety ride 

The strong, clean waters of Thy splendid seas ; 
That Anti-Christ be no more glorified. 

Nor mock Thy justice with his blasphemies. 
We come — but not with threats or braggart boasts. 

Hear us, Lord God of Hosts ! 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

That Liberty be not betrayed and sold, 

And that her sons prove worthy of the breed ; 

That Freedom's flag may shelter as of old, 
Nor decorate the shrines of Gold and Greed, 

We come; and on our consecrated sword 
We ask Thy blessing, Lord. 

That honor be among those priceless things 

Without which life shall seem of little worth; 
That covenants be not the sport of kings ; 

That freedom shall not perish from the earth, 
We come; across a scarred and blood-stained sod, 
Lead us, Almighty God ! 

Beatrice Barry. 
By permission, The New Yokk Times. 

FALL IN! 

We thought that reason had mastered men. 

That peace of the world was lord. 
That never the roll of the drum again 

Should quicken the thirsty sword — 
But our bubble broke with a sudden blow 

And we heard, like the trumpets din 
That levelled the walls of Jericho, 

The old stern cry—" Fall in ! " 

We were numb, amazed, we were sick and dazed 

With a horror past belief ; 
Silent we stood while Belgium blazed 

In her martyr's glory of grief. 
Then it came so near that we needs must hear, 

For the cry of our murdered kin 
Drove in our heart like a searching spear 

The call of the hour—" Fall in ! " 
(52) 



THE CALL 

Not in the flush of a barren thrill 

Do we come to our deed at last. 
We have weighed our will, we must do our will, 

For the doubting time is past. 
We have faced our soul in the sleepless night 

And what shall we fear but sin.'' 
Not for love of the fight, but for the love of the rigiht, 

In the name of our God — " Fall in ! " 

Amelia Joskphine Burr. 
The Silver Trumpet, Amelia Josephine Burr. 
Copyright 1918, Geobqe II. Doran Companv, Publishers. 

THE ROAD TO FRANCE 

Thank God our liberating lance 

Goes flaming! on the way to France ! 

To France — the trail the Gurkhas found ! 

To France — old England's rallying ground ! 

To France — the path the Russian strode ! 

To France — the Anzacs' glory road ! 

To France — where our Lost Legion ran 

To fight and die for God and man ! 

To France — with every race and breed 

That hates Oppression's brutal creed ! 

Ah ! France — how could our hearts forget 
The path by which came Lafayette.'' 
How could the haze of doubt hang low 
Upon the road of Rochambeau .'' 
How was it that we missed the way 
Brave Jofl're leads us along to-day.? 
At last, thank God ! At last we see 
There is no tribal Liberty ! 
(53) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

No beacon lighting just our shores! 

No Freedom guarding but our doors ! 

The flame she kindled for our sires 

Burns now in Europe's battle fires ! 

The soul that led our fathers west 

Turns back to free the world's oppressed ! 

Allies, you have not called in vain ! 
We share your conflict and your pain ! 
" Old Glory" through new stains and rents, 
Partakes of Freedom's sacraments ! 
Into that hell His will creates 
We drive the foe ; his lusts, his hates ! 
Last come, we will be last to stay — 
Till Right has had her crowning day ! 
Replenisii, comrades, from our veins, 
The blood the sword of despot drains. 
And make our eager sacrifice 
Part of the freely rendered price 
You pay to lift humanity — 
You pay to make our brothers free! 
See, with what proud hearts we advance — 
To France ! 

Daniel M. Henderson. 

Bi/ permMsion of the National Arts Club. 

LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD * 

Thou, warden of the western gate, above Manhattan 

Bay, 
The fogs of doubt that hid thy face are driven clean 

away: 

*From The Ueo Flower, copyn(jh( 1918, by Charles Scribner'a 
Sons. By permission of the publishers. 

(54) 



THE CALL 

Thine eyes at last look far and clear, thou liftcst high 

thy hand 
'J'o spread the light of liberty world-wide for every land. 

Britain, and France, and Italy, and Russia newly born. 
Have waited for thee in the night. Oh, come as comes 

the mom ! 
Serene and strong and full of faith, America arise. 
With steady hope and mighty help to join thy brave 

Allies. 

O dearest country of my heart ! home of the high desire ! 

Make clean thy soul for sacrifice on Freedom's altar 
fire: 

For thou must suffer, thou must fight, until the war- 
lords cease, 

And all the peoples lift their heads in liberty and peace. 

Heney Van Dyke. 



CRUSADERS 

There's one who writes of Oxford — 
Gray towers and pearl-gray sky — 

And grieves for all the merry lads 
Who have gone forth to die ; 

While I my way througjh Princeton — 
Pearl-gray against keen blue — 

Take softlier, with an aching heart, 
For pride, dear lads, in you. 

(55) 



VERSE ¥0\\ PATHIOTS 

I km»v iu»t i>no tunon^ you: 

Nt) si>u li> ^ive have I : 
But rarh slim khaki bi>v juy hrart 

Salutos, as I «jo bv. 

Yuui's is the (lav ! Wo jji'oet you. 

"Pis ours to staml asitlo, 
Atul sot* you oast your riylitful joys. 

Your cap aiul i;own tliiiij wide. 

The ijroat C^usado awaits you! 

Strauiji> stoods of soa ai\il sky 
v\rt> straiuiuij at thoir K'ash, till you 

C\>n\o fiu'th to tU>at ov tlv. 

Vov brotluM'hood : — for no iloail bouds 
Yo hn>so oaoh sluuiuij sword! 

Yo tiijl\t m>t for a sopulohro 
Hut for tho liviuif Lonl. 

M.VKION N. I.JASK11.L. 
Hjt pifrmismioH, copjii'ijfkt 1JM7, Siriknkr's Mauabank. 



A IH)KT ENLISTS 

vVnd all the souijs that I niiglit sinsf — 
Mttduoss tv> risk tlioiu so, you say? 
How is it such a certain thing 
'ri\at 1 can siny: tlieuj if 1 stay? 

The winds of Uod are past control. 
They answer to no human call. 
And if 1 lose ujy liviuij soul. 
That is — for uie — the end of all. 
(56) 



'riii<: cALii 

Hil li-r l<> slioul <ni«> liisl ^rcal. soii^, 

Tliiin ci'Hwl \]\v hUtii- vnir.s nlon/^ 
And never Hiufj; n^iiin. 

Amki.ia tlosii'.riiiNK Ho 1(11. 
Tiiic Sm,vi:h 'l'iMi^ii'i;r. Auwlui Jti.iiif)hiin> livrr, 

Ciipyilljlit Mils, ( ! iiioiKim II. I )ihian < 'oM I'ANV, I'litillNJit'in. 



A I'HEK WOMAN, NOT A PACIFIST 

Pin ^Im(I I Mill no pucifist, 

'I'lwil Ixinncrs llojiliii/j^ Irrc 
l^'roin cvci'v (Iji^'-nImIV, cvctv lower 

Mean ev(>rvllnng- lo me. 
Honor iun\ Ntierifiee niid iriitli, 

A Na I ion's loy/ill V ! 

Pni /^lad 1 MID no slielleied lliin^, 

Too safe lo nndersliind 
Tlie liiin/4'er paii^s. Hie frluislly need 

or ilwil invadt-d land. 
And ^lad liiey culled iis, llial we ^ave 

An (wi^er liel|Hii^- liand ! 

Pin ^lad il lias Ix-eii ^iven ine 

To see liial. even war 
Willi all ils /grisly iiarvesliiif^; 

May liold some ^ood in store, 
Tlirou^ii l<Mi;;lieiied (iiire, si ren^lliened will 

And minds llial erime alilior! 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

And now we ask no coward's peace ! 

We'll pour forth all we own, 
Money and life and love and youth, 

That we may now atone 
For those unseeing leisured years 

Before the truth was known ! 



I'm glad I am no pacifist — 

Old Glory floating free 
Beside those friendly foreign flags 

Means home and hope to me, 
And more, in time, throughout the world 
It means Man's Liberty! 

Elizabeth Newport Hepburn. 
By permission of th« Author and The New Yohk Times. 



(58) 



HEROES 



M 

(I 
7 



TO A HERO 

Wo may not know how fared your soul before 

Occasion canio to try it by tliis test. 
IVrclianco, it used on lofty wings to soar; 

Again, it may have dwelt in lowly nest. 

We do not know if bygone knightly strain 
Impelled you then, or blood of humble clod 

Defied the dread adventure to attain 

The cross of honor or the peace of God. 

We see but this, that when the moment came 

You raised on high, then drained, the solenm cup — 

The grail of death; that, touched by valor's flame, 
The kindled spirit burned the body up. 

OSCAU C. A. CllILD. 
lii/ imniilssioii. Harper's Maoazine. 



(60) 



HEROES 

MARCO BOZZARIS 

At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour 
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 

Should tremble at his power : 
In dreams, through camp and court, he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror ; 

In dreams his song of triumph heard, 
Then wore his monarch's signet-ring, 
Then press'd that monarch's throne — a king; 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As l^idoji's garden bird. 

At midnight, in the forest shades, 

Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, — 
True as the steel of their tried blades, 

Heroes in heart and hand. 
There had the Persian's thousands stood. 
There had the glad earth drunk their blood 

On old Platffia's day ; 
And now there breathed tliat haunted air 
The sons of sires who conquer'd there. 
With arm to strike, and soul to dare, 

As quick, as far, as they. 

An hour pass'd on — the Turk awoke : 

That bright dream was his last; 
He woke, to hear his sentries shriek, 
" To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek ! " 
He woke, to die 'midst flame, and smoke. 
And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke, 

And death-shots falling thick and fast 
(61) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

As lightnings from the mountain-cloud ; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band : 
'* Strike, till the last arm'd foe expires ; 
Strike, for your altars and your fires ; 
Strike, for the green graves of your sires ; 

God and your native land ! " 

They fought, like brave men, long and well ; 

They piled that ground with Moslem slain ; 
They conquer'd — but Bozzaris fell, 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile when rang their proud hurrah, 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close 
Calmly, as to a night's repose. 

Like flowers at set of sun. 



Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 
Greece nurtured in her glory's time. 

Rest thee — there is no prouder grave. 
Even in her proud clime. 



For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's, 
One of the few, the immortal names 
That were not born to die. 

FlTZ-G»EENE HaLLBCK. 
By permittion, Halleck, Poetical Works, D. Appleton 4r Co. 



(62) 



HEROES 
THE GREEKS AT THERMOPYL Ji 

They fell devoted, but undying ; 
The very gale their names seemed sighing; 
The waters murmured of their name; 
The woods were peopled with their fame ; 
The silent pillar, lone and gray. 
Claimed kindred with their sacred clay : 
Their spirits wrapped the dusky mountain, 
Their memory sparkled o'er the fountain : 
The meanest rill, the mightiest river, 
Rolled mingling with their fame forever. 
Despite of every yoke she bears. 
The land is glory's still and theirs. 
'Tis still a watchword to the earth : 
When man would do a deed of worth. 
He points to Greece, and turns to tread, 
So sanctioned, on the tyrant's head ; 
He looks to her, and rushes on 
Where life is lost, or freedom won. 

Byron. 

HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE 

Lars Porsena of Clusium, 

By the nine gods he swore 
That the great house of Tarquin 

Should suffer wrong no more. 
By the nine gods he swore it, 

And named a trysting-day, 
And bade his messengers ride forth, 

East and west and south and north. 

To summon his array. 



(63) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

They held a council, standing 

Before the river-gate ; 
Short time was there, ye well may guess. 

For musing or debate. 
Outspake the consul roundly : 

" The bridge must straight go down ; 
For, since Janiculum is lost. 

Naught else can save the town." 

■Jp ^ ^ "sp ^ ^ 

Then outspake brave Horatius, 

The captain of the gate : 
" To every man upon this earth 

Death cometh soon or late. 
And how can man die better 

Than facing fearful odds 
For the ashes of his fathers 

And the temples of his gods.? " 
-* ***** 

" Hew down the bridge, sir consul. 
With all tiie speed ye may ; 
I, with two more to help me, 

Will hold the foe in play, — 
In yon strait path a thousand 

May well .be stopped by three. 
Now who will stand on either hand, 

And keep the bridge with me.^* " 

Then outspake Spurius Lartius, — 

A Ramnian proud was he: 
" Lo ! I will stand at thy right hand, 

And keep the bridge with thee." 

(G4) 




"freedom's crusaders who war against war" 

Poster-painting for the Fourth Liberty Loan by Edwnn H. Blashfield (reproduced by the 
courtesy of the present owner, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City). 



HEROES 

And outspake strong Herminius,- 

Of Titian blood was he : 
" I will abide on thy left side, 

And keep the bridge with thee." 



But, hark ! the cry is Astur : 

And lo ! the ranks divide ; 
And the great lord of Luna 

Comes with his stately stride. 
Upon his ample shoulders 

Clangs loud the fourfold shield. 
And in his hand he shakes the brand 

Which none but he can wield. 



Then, whirling up his broadsword 

With both hands to the height, 
He rushed against Horatius, 

And smote with all his might. 
With shield and blade Horatius 

Right deftly turned the blow. 
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh ; 
It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh. 
The Tuscans raised a joyful cry 

To see the red blood flow. 

He reeled, and on Herminius 
He leaned one breathing-space. 

Then, like a wild-cat mad with wounds, 
Sprang right at Astur's face. 
(65) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Through teeth and skull and helmet 

So fierce a thrust he sped, 
The good sword stood a handbreadth out 

Behind the Tuscan's head. 



On Astur's throat Horatius 

Right firmly pressed his heel, 
And thrice and four times tugged amain, 

Ere he wrenched out the steel. 
" And see," he cried, " the welcome, 

Fair guests, that waits you here ! 
What noble Lucumo comes next 

To taste our Roman cheer ? " 



But meanwhile axe and lever 

Have manfully been plied; 
And now the bridge hangs tottering 

Above the boiling tide. 
" Come back, come back, Horatius ! " 

Loud cried the fathers all, — 
" Back, Lartius ! back, Herminius ! 

Back, ere the ruin fall ! " 



But with a crash like thunder 
Fell every loosened beam. 

And, like a dam, the mighty wreck 
Lay right athwart the stream ; 
(66) 



HEROES 



And a long shout of triumph 
Rose from the walls of Rome, 

As to the highest turret-tops 
Was splashed the yellow foam. 



Alone stood brave Horatius, 

But constant still in mind, — 
Thrice thirty thousand foes before. 

And the broad flood behind. 
" Down with him ! " cried false Sextus, 

With a smile on his pale face ; 
" Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, 

" Now yield thee to our grace ! " 

Round turned he, as not deigning 

Those craven ranks to see ; 
Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, 

To Sextus naught spake he ; 
But he saw on Palatinus 

The white porch of his home; 
And he spake to the noble river 

That rolls by the towers of Rome : 

" O Tiber ! Father Tiber ! 

To whom the Romans pray, 
A Roman's li|e, a Roman's arms, 

Take thou in charge this day ! " 
So he spake, and, speaking, sheathed 

The good sword by his side. 
And, with his harness on his back, 

Plunged headlong in the tide. 
(67) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

No sound of joy or sorrow 

Was heard from either bank, 
But friends and foes in dumb surprise, 
With parted lips and straining eyes. 

Stood gazing where he sank ; 
And when above the surges 

They saw his crest appear, 
All Rome sent fortii a rapturous cry; 
And even the ranks of Tuscany 

Could scarce forbear to cheer. 

• ««««« 

When the goodman mends his armor. 

And trims his helmet's plume; 
When the goodwife's shuttle merrily 

Goes flashing through the loom ; 
With weeping and with laughter 

Still is the story told 
How well Horatius kept the bridge 

In the brave days of old. 

Macau LAY. 

Lays or Ancient Rome. 

THE ADMIRAL'S GHOST 

I tell you a tale to-night 

Which a seaman told to me. 
With eyes that gleamed in the lanthorn light 

And a voice as low as the sea. 

" Do 'ee know who Nelson was ? 

That pore little shrivelled form 
With the patch on his eye, and the pinncd-up sleeve 

And a soul like a North Sea storm .'' 

♦ •««** 

(68) 



HEROES 

" He wasn't the man you think ! 

His patch was a dern disguise ! 
For he knew that they'd find him out, d'you see, 

If they looked him in both his eyes. 

" He was twice as big as he seemed ; 

But his clothes was cunningly made, 
He'd both of his hairy arms all right ! 

The sleeve was a trick of the trade. 

" You've heard of sperrits, no doubt ; 

Well, there's more in the matter than that ! 
But he wasn't the patch and he wasn't the sleeve, 

And he wasn't the lace cockedl-hat. 

*' Nelson was just — a ghost! 

You may laugh ! But the Devonshire men 
They knew that he'd come when England called, 

And they know that he'll come again. 

" I'll tell you the way it was 

(For none of the landsmen know). 

And to tell it you right, you must go a'stam 
Two hundred years or so. 

" The waves were lapping and slapping 

The same as they are to-day; 
And Drake lay dying aboard his ship 

In Nombre Dios Bay. 

" The scent of the foreign flowers 

Came floating all around ; 
* But I'd give my soul for the smell o' the pitch,' 

Says he, ' in Plymouth Sound. 
(69) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

" ' What shall I do,' says he, 

' When the guns begin to roar. 

An' England wants me, and me not there 
To shatter 'er foes once more? ' 

" ' You must take my drum,' he says, 

' To the old sea-wall at home ; 
And if ever you strike that drum,' he says, 

' Why, strike me blind, I'll come ! 

" ' If England needs me, dead 
Or living, I'll rise that day ! 
I'll rise from the darkness under the sea 

Ten thousand miles away.' 

****** 

" They lowered him down in the deep. 

And there in the sunset light 
They boomed a broadside over his grave, 

As meanin' to say, ' Good-night.' 

" They sailed away in the dark 

To the dear little isle they knew ; 
And they hung his drum by the old sea-wall 

The same as he told them to. 

****** 

" Two hundred years went by, 

And the guns began to roar, 
And England was fighting hard for her life, 

As ever she fought of yore. 

" ' It's only my dead that count,' 

She said, as she says to-day ; 
' It isn't the ships and it isn't the guns 

'Ull sweep Trafalgar's Bay.' 
(70) 



HEROES 

" D'you guess who Nelson was ? 

You may laugh, but it's true as time ! 
There was more in that pore little chawed-up chap 

Than ever his best friend knew. 

****** 

" But — ask of the Devonshire men ; 

For they heard in the dead of night 
The roll of a drum, and they saw him pass 

On a ship all shining white. 

" He stretched out his dead cold face 
And he sailed in the grand old way ! 

The fishes had taken an eye and an arm, 
But he swept Trafalgar's Bay. 

" Nelson — was Francis Drake ! 
O, what matters the uniform, 
Or the patch on your eye, or your pinned-up sleeve, 
If your soul's like a North Sea storm.'' " 

Alfred Noyes. 
By permission, from The Enchanted Island. 
Copyright 1910, by Alfred Noyes. 



DRAKE'S DRUM 

Drake he was a Devon man, an' ruled the Devon seas ; 

(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below.?) 
Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at ease, 

And dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. 
" Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore. 

Strike et when your powder's runnin' low ; 
If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven, 

An' drumi them up the Channel as we drummed them 
long ago." 

(71) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand miles away, 

(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?) 
Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay, 

An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. 
Yarnder lumes the island, yarnder lie the ships, 

Wi' sailor lads a-dancin' heel-an'-toe. 
An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin', — 

He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago. 

Drake lies in his hammock till the great Armadas come, 

(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?) 
Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for the drum, 

An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. 
Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound, 

Call him when ye sail to meet the foe ; 
Where the old trade's plyin' an' the old flag flyin', 

They shall find him ware an' wakin', as they found him 
long ago. 

Henry Newbolt. 
By permission, Newbolt, Collected Poems, Thomas Nelson ^ Sons. 



THE FLEETS 

Are you out with the fleets through the long, dark night. 

Admiral Drake? 
Are you keeping watch, when with never a light 
They patrol the seas and wait for a fight? 

In that far South Sea were you standing by. 

Admiral Drake? 
Did your masthead catch that wireless cry? 
Did you in sorrow watch them die? 

(72) 



HEROES 

Once more at the guns do your gunners strain, 

Admiral Drake? 
Do their voices ring o'er the decks again, 
" Have at them, boys ! " in the old refrain? 

When the shining death leaps through the wave, 

Admiral Drake, 
Are your boats all out in a rush to save ? 
Do you stand to salute the death of the brave? 

Are there others out on the heaving blue, 

Admiral Drake? 
Are Collingwood, Blake and Nelson, too, 
In their high-decked ships, along with you? 

Oh, seamen of old, the shadowy gates 
Swing wide to let you through. 
And out o'er the seas your galleons sweep 
To fight for the flag anew. 

M. G. Meugens, 
By permission, Country Life, London. 



IMMORTALITY 

Battles nor songs can from oblivion save. 
But Fame upon a white deed loves to build : 

From out that cup of water Sidney gave. 
Not one drop has been spilled. 

LiZETTE WOODWORTH ReESE, 
By permission, Reese, A Handful of Lavender, Th,om,as B. Mosher. 



(73) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

BONNY DUNDEE 

To the Lords of Convention 'twas Claver'se who spoke, 
Ere the King's crown shall fall there are crowns to be 

broke ; 
So let each Cavalier who loves honour and me, 
Come follow the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. 

Come fill up my cup, corns fill up my can. 
Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; 
Come open the West Port, and let me gang free. 
And ifs room for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee! 

Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street, 
The bells are rung backward, the drums they are beat ; 
But the provost, douce man, said, " Just e'en let himi be. 
The Gude Town is weel quit of that Deil of Dundee." 

****** 

With sour-featured Whigs the Grassmarket was 

crammed, 
As if half the West had set tryst to be hanged ; 
There was spite in each look, there was fear in each e'e, 
As they watched for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee. 

These cowls of Kilmarnock had spits and had spears. 

And lang-hafted guillies to kill Cavaliers ; 

But they shrunk to close-heads, and the causeway was 

free. 
At the toss of the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. 

He spurred to the foot of the proud Castle rock. 

And with the gay Gordon he gallantly spoke ; 

" Let Mons Meg and her marrows speak twa words or 

three 
For the love of the bonnet of Bonny Dundee." 

(74) 



HEROES 

The Gordon demands of him which way he goes: 
" Where'er shall direct me the shade of Montrose ! 
Your Grace in short space shall hear tidings of me, 
Or that low lies the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. 

" There are hills beyond Pentland, and lands beyond 

Forth, 
If there's lords in the Lowlands, there's chiefs in the 

North; 
There are wild Duniewassals three thousand times three, 
Will cry hoigh! for the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. 

" There's brass on the target of barkened bull-hide; 
There's steel in the scabbard that dangles beside; 
The brass shall be burnished, the steel shall flash free 
At a toss of the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. 

"Away to the hills, to the caves, to the rocks. 
Ere I own an usurper, I'll couch with the fox ; 
And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your glee ; 
You have not seen the last of my bonnet and me ! " 

He waved his proud hand, and the trumpets were blown, 
The kettle-dinims clashed, and the horsemen rode on. 
Till on Ravelston's cliffs and on Clermiston's lee 
Died away the wild war-notes of Bonny Dundee. 

Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can. 
Come saddle the horses and call up the men. 
Come open your gates, and let me gae free. 
For it's up with the hoTvnets of Bonny Dundee! 

Sir Waltee Scott. 



(76) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

GILLESPIE 

Riding at dawn, riding alone, 
Gillespie left the town behind ; 
Before he turned by the Westward road 
A horseman crossed him, staggering blind. 

" The Devil's abroad in false Vellore, 
The Devil that stabs by night," he said, 
" Women and children, rank and file, 
Dying and dead, dying and dead." 

Without a word, without a groan, 
Sudden and swift Gillespie turned. 
The blood roared in his ears like fire. 
Like fire the road beneath him burned. 

He thundered back to Arcot gate, 
He thundered up through Arcot town. 
Before he thought a second thought 
In the barrack yard he lighted down. 

" Trumpeter, sound for the Light Dragoons, 
Sound to saddle and spur," he said; 
" He that is ready may ride with me, 
And he that can may ride ahead." 

Fierce and fain, fierce and fain, 
Behind him went the troopers grim. 
They rode as ride the Light Dragoons 
But never a man could ride with him. 

Their rowels ripped their horses* sides. 
Their hearts were red with a deeper goad, 
But ever alone before them all 
Gillespie rode, Gillespie rode. 
(76) 



HEROES 

Alone he came to false Vellore, 
The walls were lined, the gates were barred ; 
Alone he walked where the bullets bit, 
And called above to the Sergeant's Guard: 

" Sergeant, Sergeant, over the gate, 
Where are your officers all ? " he said ; 
Heavily came the Sergeant's voice, 
" There are two living and forty dead." 

" A rope, a rope," Gillespie cried : 
They bound their belts to serve his need ; 
There was not a rebel behind the wall 
But laid his barrel and drew his bead. 

There was not a rebel among them all 
But pulled his trigger and cursed his aim, 
For lightly swung and rightly swung 
Over the gate Gillespie came. 

He dressed the line, he led the charge, 
They swept the wall like a stream in spate. 
And roaring over the roar they heard 
The galloper guns that burst the gate. 

Fierce and fain, fierce and fain. 
The troopers rode the reeking flight: 
The very stones remember still 
The end of them that stab by night. 

They've kept the tale a hundred years, 

They'll keep the tale a hundred more : 

Riding at dawn, riding alone, 

Gillespie came to false Vellore. 

Henry Newbolt. 
By permission. Collected Poems, Thomas Nelson ^ Sons. 

(77) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

SANTA FILOIMENA 

Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, 
Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, 

Our hearts, in glad surprise, 

To higher levels rise. 

The tidal wave of deeper souls 
Into our inmost being rolls. 

And lifts us unawares 

Out of all meaner cares. 

Honor to those whose words or deeds 
Thus help us in our daily needs, 

And by their overflow 

Raise us from what is low ! 

Thus thought I, as by night I read 
Of the great army of the dead. 
The trenches cold and damp, 
The starved and frozen camp, — 

The wounded from the battle-plain, 
In dreary hospitals of pain. 

The cheerless corridors. 

The cold and stony floors. 

Lo ! in that house of misery 

A lady with a lamp I see 

Pass through the glimmering gloom, 
And flit from room to room. 

And slow, as in a dream of bliss. 
The speechless sufl'erer turns to kiss 

Her shadow, as it falls 

Upon the darkening walls. 

(7S) 



HEROES 

Ah if a door in lieaven should be 
Op^'ned and then closed suddenly, 

The vision came and went, 

The light shone and was spent. 

On England's annals, through the long 
Hereafter of her speech and song, 

That light its rays shall cast 

From portals of the past. 

A Lady with a Lamp shall stand 
In the great history of the land, 

A noble type of good, 

Heroic womanhood. 

Nor even shall be wanting here 
The palm, the lily, and the spear, 

The symbols that of yore 

Saint Filomena bore. 

Heney W. Longfellow. 

By permission of, and by special arrangement v;ith, Ilouykton 
Mif/lin Co., from, Longfellow's Compuete Poetical Wohks. 



THE PRIVATE OF THE BUFFS. 

(Or the British Soldier in China) 

Last night among his fellow roughs, 
He jested, quaffed and swore; 

A drunken private of the Buff's, 
Who never looked before. 

(79) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

To-day, beneath the foeman's frown. 

He stands in Elgin's place, 
Ambassador from Britain's crown 

And type of all her race. 

Poor, reckless, rude, low-born, untaught. 

Bewildered and alone, 
A heart with English instinct fraught. 

He yet can call his own. 
Ay, tear his body limb from limb. 

Bring cord or axe or flame. 
He only knows that not through him 

Shall England come to shame. 

For Kentish hopfields round him seemed. 

Like dreams, to come and go ; 
Bright leagues of cherry blossom gleamed, 

One sheet of living snow ; 
The smoke above his father's door 

In gray soft eddyings hung; 
Must he then watch it rise no more. 

Doomed by himself so young.'' 

Yes, honor calls ! — with strength like steel 

He put the vision by ; 
Let dusky Indians whine and kneel, 

An English lad must die. 
And thus, with eyes that would not shrink. 

With knee to man unbent. 
Unfaltering on its dreadful brink. 

To his red grave he went. 



(80) 



HEROES 

Vain n^ightiest fleets of iron framed, 

Vain those all-shattering guns, 
Unless proud England keep untamed 

The strong heart of her sons ; 
So let his name through Europe ring, — 

A man of mean estate, 
V^ho died, as firm as Sparta's king, 

Because his soul was great. 

Sir Francis Hastings Doyle. 



THE GRENADIER'S GOOD-BYE 

When Lieut. Murray fell, the only words he spoke were: "Forward, Gren- 
adiers!" — Press Telegram. 

Here they halted, here once more 

Hand from hand was rent; 
Here his voice above the roar 

Rang, and on they went. 
Yonder out of sight they crossed, 

Yonder died the cheers ; 
One word lives where all is lost — 

" Forward, Grenadiers ! " 

This alone he asked of fame, 

This alone of pride; 
Still with this he faced the flame, 

Answered Death, and died. 
Crest of battle sunward tossed, 

Song of the marching years, 
This shall live though all be lost — 

" Forward, Grenadiers ! " 

Henry Newbglt. 
PoKMs: New and Old, John Murray, London. 

6 (81) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 



KITCHENER 

No man in England slept, the night he died ; 

The harsh, stem spirit passed without a pang. 

And free of mortal clogs his message rang. 

In every wakeful mind the challenge cried: 

Think not of me; one servant less or more 

Means nothmg now; hold fast the greater thing — 

Strike hard, love truth, serve England and the King! 

Servant of England, soldier to the core, 
What does it matter where his body fall? 
What does it matter where they build the tomb? 
Five milHon men, from Calais to Khartoum, 
These are his wreath and his memorial. 

Christopher Morley. 
By permission, copyrighted, Life. 
Songs for a Little House, Christopher Morley. 
Copyright 1917, George H. Doran Company, Publishers. 



KITCHENER'S MARCH 

Not the muffled drums for him. 

Nor the wailing of the fife. 
Trumpets blaring to the charge 

Were the music of his life. 
Let the music of his death 

Be the feet of marching men. 
Let his heart a thousandfold 

Take the field again ! 

(82) 



HEROES 

Of his patience, of his calm, 

Of his quiet faithfulness, 
England, raise your hero's cairn ! 

He is worthy of no less. 
Stone by stone, in silence laid. 

Singly, surely, let it grow. 
He whose living was to serve 

Would have had it so. 

There's a body drifting down 

For the mighty sea to keep. 
There's a spirit cannot die 

While a heart is left to leap 
In the land he gave his all. 

Steel ahke to praise and hate. 
He has saved the life he spent — 

Death has struck too late. 

Not the muffled drums for him. 

Nor the wailing of the fife. 
Trumpets blaring to the charge 

Were the music of his life. 
Let the music of his death 

Be the feet of marching men. 
Let his heart a thousandfold 

Take the field again ! 

Amelia Josephine Burr. 

Reprinted from Life and Living, Amelia Josephine Burr. 
Copyright 1916, George H. Doran Company, Publishers. 



(83) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

COLUMBUS 

Behind him lay the gray Azores, 

Behind the Gates of Hercules ; 

Before him not the ghost of shores ; 

Before him only shoreless seas. 

The good mate said : " Now we must pray, 

For lo ! the very stars are gone. 

Brave Admiral, speak; what shall I say? " 

" Why, say, ' Sail on ! sail on ! and on ! ' " 

" My men grow mutinous day by day ; 
My men grow ghastly wan and weak." 
The stout mate thought of home ; a spray 
Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. 
" What shall I say, brave Admiral, say, 
If we sight naught but seas at dawn ? " 
" Why, you shall say at break of day, 
* Sail on ! sail on ! sail on ! and on ! ' " 

They sailed and sailed, as Avinds might blow, 
Until at last the blanched mate said: 
" Why, now not even God would know 
Should I and all my men fall dead ; 
These very winds forget their way. 
For God from these dread seas is gone. 
Now speak, brave Admiral, speak and say " — 
He said: " Sail on ! sail on ! and on ! " 

They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate : 
" This mad sea shows his teeth to-night. 
He curls his lip, he lies in wait 
With lifted teeth, as if to bite ! 
(84) 



HEROES 

Brave Admiral, say but one good word: 
What shall we do when hope is gone ? " — 
The words leapt like a leaping sword : 
" Sail on ! sail on ! sail on ! and on ! '* 

Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck. 

And peered through darkness. Ah, that night 

Of all dark nights ! And then a speck — 

A light ! a light ! a light ! a light ! 

It grew, a starlit flag unfurled ! 

It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. 

He gained a world ; he gave that world 

Its grandest lesson : " On ! sail on ! " 

Joaquin Millar. 
By permission, Miller, Poems, Harr Wagner Publishing Co. 



THE FIRST AMERICAN SAILORS 

Five fearless knights of the first renown 

In Elizabeth's array, 
From Plymouth in Devon sailed up and down- 
American sailors they ; 

Who went to the West, 

For they all knew best 

Where the silver was grey 

As a moonlight night 

And the gold as bright 

As a midsummer day — 

A-sailing away 

Through the salt sea spray. 

The first American sailors. 
(85) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Sir Humphrey Gilbert, he was one 
And Devon was heaven to him ; 
He loved the sea as he loved the sun 
And hated the Don as the Devil's limb — 
Hated him up to the brim ! 
In Holland the Spanish hide he tanned, 
He roughed and routed their braggart band, 
And God was with him on sea as on land ; 
Newfoundland knew him, and all that coast, 
For he was one of America's host — 
And now there is nothing but English speech 
For leagues and leagues, and reach on reach. 
From near the Equator away to the Pole ; 
While the billows beat and the oceans roll 
On the Three Americas. 

Sir Francis Drake, and he was two 
And Devon was heaven to him ; 
He loved in his heart the waters blue 
And he hated the Don as the Devil's limb — 
Hated him up to the brim ! 
At Cadiz he singed the King's black beard, 
The Armada met him and fled — afeared. 
Great Philip's golden fleece he sheared; 
Oregon knew him, and all that coast, 
For he was one of America's host — 
And now there is nothing but English speech 
For leagues on leagues, and reach on reach, 
From California away to the Pole ; 
While the billows beat and the oceans roll 
On the Three Americas. 



(86) 



HEROES 

Sir Walter Raleigh, he was three 
And Devon was heaven to him; 
There was nothing he loved so well as the sea — 
He hated the Don as the Devil's limb — 
He hated himi up to the brim ! 
He settled full many a Spanish score; 
Full many's the banner his bullets tore 
On English, American, Spanish shore ; 
Guiana knew him, and all that coast, 
For he was one of America's host — 
And now there is nothing but English speech 
For leagues and leagues, and reach on reach. 
From Guiana northward to the Pole ; 
While the billows beat and the oceans roll 
On the Three Americas. 

Sir Richard Grenville, he was four 
And Devon was Heaven to him ; 
He loved the waves and their windy roar 
And hated the Don as the Devil's limb- 
Hated him up to the brim ! 
He w hipped him on land and mocked him at sea, 
He laughed to scorn his sovereignty, 
And with his Revenge beat his fifty-three ; 
Virginia knew him and all that coast. 
For he was one of America's host — 
And now there is nothing but English speech 
For leagues and leagues, and reach on reach, 
From the old Dominion away to the Pole ; 
While the billows beat and the oceans roll 
On the Three Americas. 



(87) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

And Sir John Hawkins he wa* fve 
And Devon was Heaven to him; 
He worshipped the water while he was alive 
And hated the Don as the Devil's limb — 
Hated him up to the brim ! 
He chased him over the Spanish Main, 
He scoffed and defied the navies of Spain — 
Her cities he ravished again and again ; 
The Gulf it knew him and all that coast, 
For he was one of America's host — 
And now there is nothing but English speech 
For leagues and leagues, and reach on reach, 
From the Rio Grande away to the Pole ; 
While the billows beat and the oceans roll 
On the Three Americas. 

Five fearless knights have filled gallant graves 

This many and many a day. 

Some under the willows, some under the waves — 

American sailors they; 
And still in the West 

Is their valour blest, 

Where a banner bright 

With the ocean's blue 

And the red wracks hue 

And the spoondrift's white, 

Is smiling to-day 

Through the salt sea spray 

Upon American sailors. 

Wallace Rice. 
By permission, Scollard ^ Rice, Ballads of Valor and Victory, 
Fleming H. Revell. 



(88) 



HEROES 



MOLLIE PITCHER 

'Twas hurry and' scurry at Monmouth town, 
For Lee was beating a wild retreat ; 
The British were riding the Yankees down, 
And panic was pressing on flying feet. 

Galloping down like a hurricane 
Washington rode with his sword swung high. 
Mighty as he of the Troj an plain 
Fired by a courage from the sky. 

"Halt, and stand to your guns ! " he cried. 
And a bombardier made swift reply. 
Wheeling his cannon into the tide, 
He fell 'neath the shot of a foeman nigh. 

Mollie Pitcher sprang to his side, 
Fired as she saw her husband do. 
Telling the king in his stubborn pride 
Women like men to their homes are true. 

Washington rode from the bloody fray 
Up to the gun that a woman manned. 
" Mollie Pitcher, you save the day," 
He said, as he gave her a hero's hand. 

He named her sergeant with manly praise, 

While her war-brown face was wet with tears — ■ 

A woman has ever a woman's ways. 

And the army was wild with cheers. 

Kate Brownlee Sheuwogd. 
By permission of Miss Sherwood. 

(89) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

DEFEAT AND VICTORY 

Through the clangor of the cannon, 
Through the combat's wreck and reek, 
Answer to th' o'ermastering Shannon 
Thunders from' the Chesapeake; 
Gallant Lawrence, wounded, dying. 
Speaks with still unconquered lip 
Ere the bitter draught he drinks : — 
Keep the Flag flying! 
Fight her till she strikes or sinks! 
Don't give up the ship! 

StiU that voice is sounding o'er us, 

So bold Perry heard it call ; 

Farragut has joined its chorus ; 

Porter, Dewey, Wainwright — all 

Heard the voice of duty crying. 

Deathless word from dauntless lip 

That our past and future links : — 

Keep the Flag flying! 

Fight her till she strikes or sinks! 

Don't give up th€ ship! 

Wallace Rice. 
By permission of the Author. 



FARRAGUT 
(Mobile Bay, 5 August, 1864) 

Farragut, Farragut, 
Old Heart of Oak, 
Daring Dave Farragut, 
Thunderbolt stroke, 
(90) 



HEROES 

Watches the hoary mist 

Lift from the bay, 
Till his flag, glory-kissed, 

Greets the young day. 

Far, by gray Morgan's walls. 

Looms the black fleet; 
Hark ! deck to rampart calls 

With the drums' beat. 
Buoy your chains overboard, 

While the steam hums ; 
Men ! to the battlement, 

Faragut comes. 

See, as the hurricane 

Hurtles in wrath 
Squadrons of clouds amain 

Back from its path ! 
Back to the parapet. 

To the guns' lips. 
Thunderbolt Farragut 

Hurls the black ships. 

Now through the battle's roar 

Clear the boy sings, — 
" By the mark fathoms four," 

While his lead swings. 
Steady the wheelmen five 

" Nor' by East keep her," 
" Steady," but two alive : 

How the shells sweep her ! 



(91) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Lashed to the mast that sways 

Over red! decks, 
Over the flame that plays 

Round the torn wrecks, 
Over the dying lips 

Framed for a cheer, 
Farragut leads his ships, 

Guides the line clear. 

On by heights cannon-browed, 

While the spars quiver; 
Onward still flames the cloud 

Where the hulks shiver. 
See, yon fort's star is set, 

Storm and fire past. 
Cheer him, lads — Farragut, 

Lashed to the mast. 

Oh ! while Atlantic's breast 
I Bears a white sail. 

While the Gulf's towering crest 

Tops a green vale. 
Men thy bold deeds shall tell 

Old Heart of Oak, 
Daring Dave Farragut, 

Thunderbolt stroke ! 

William Tuckey Mereditit. 
By permission. Century Company. 



(92) 



HEROES 



SHERIDAN'S RIDE 

Up from the south at break of day, 
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, 
The affrighted air with a shudder bore, 
Like a herald in haste to the chieftain's door. 
The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar, 
Telling the battle was on once more, 

And Sheridan twenty miles away. 

And wider still those billows of war 
Thunder'd along the horizon's bar ; 
And louder yet into Winchester roll'd 
The roar of that red sea uncontroll'd, 
tMaking the blood of the listener cold. 
As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, 
And Sheridan twenty miles away. 

But there is a road from Winchester town, 
A good broad highway leading down ; 
And there, through the flush of the morning light, 
A steed as black as the steeds of night 
Was seen to pass, as with eagle flight, 
As if he knew the terrible need ; 
He stretch'd away with his utmost speed ; 
Hill» rose and fell ; but his heart was gay. 
With Sheridan fifteen miles away. 

Still sprang from those swift hoofs, thundering south. 

The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth. 

Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, 



(93) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

The heart of the steed and the heart of the master 
Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, 
Impatient to be where the battlefield calls ; 
Every nerve of the charger was strain'd to full play, 
With Sheridan only ten miles away. 

Under his spurning feet, the road 
Like an arrowy Alpine river flow'd, 
And the landscape sped away behind 
Like an ocean flying before the wind; 
And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire. 
Swept on, with his wild eye full of fire. 
But, lo ! he is nearing his heart's desire ; 
He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, 
With Sheridan only five miles away. 

The first that the General saw were the groups 

Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops ; 

What was done? what to do? a glance told him both. 

Then striking his spurs with a terrible oath. 

He dash'd down the line, 'mid a storm of huzzas, 

And the wave of retreat check'd its course there, because 

The sight of the master compelPd it to pause. 

With foam and with dust the black charger was gray ; 
By the flash of his eye and the red nostril's play 
He seem'd to the whole great army to say, 
" I have brought you Sheridan all the way 
From Winchester down, to save the day." 
Hurrah ! hurrah for Sheridan ! 
Hurrah ! hurrah for horse and man ! 

And when their statues are placed on high, 
Under the dome of the Union sky, 

(94) 



HEROES 

The American soldier's Temple of Fame, 
There with the glorious General's name 
Be it said, in letters both bold and bright : 
" Here is the steed that saved the day 
By carrying Sheridan into the fight. 
From Winchester — twenty miles away ! " 

Thomas Buchanan Read. 

By permission. Read, Poems, /. B. Lippincott Company. 



THE SWORD OF ROBERT LEE 

Forth from its scabbard, pure and bright, 

Flashed the sword of Lee ! 
Far in front of the deadly fight, 
High o'er the brave in the cause of Right, 
Its stainless sheen, like a beacon light, 
Led us to Victory ! 

Out of its scabbard, where, full long, 

It slumbered peacefully. 
Roused from its rest by the battle's song. 
Shielding the feeble, smiting the strong. 
Guarding the right, avenging the wrong. 

Gleamed the sword of Lee. 

Forth from its scabbard, high in air. 

Beneath Virginia's sky ; 
And they who saw it gleaming there. 
And knew who bore it, knelt to swear 
That where the sword led they would dare 

To follow and to die. 
(95) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Out of its scabbard ! never Imnd 

Waved sword from stain as free. 

Nor purer sword led braver band. 

Nor braver bled for a brighter land, 

Nor brighter land had a cause so grand, 
Nor cause a cliief like Lee ! 

Forth from its scabbard ! How we prayed 

That sword might victor be; 
And when our triumph was delayed, 
And many a heart grew sore afraid. 
We still hoped on while gleamed the blade 
Of noble Robert Lee. 

Forth from its scabbard all in vain 

Bright flashed the sword of Lee; 

'Tis shrouded now in its sheath again. 

It sleeps the sleep of the noble slain, 

Defeated, yet without a stain, 

Proudly and peacefully. 

Abram Joseph Ryan. 
From Father Ryan's Posms. 

Copyright, P. J. Kknisdy & Sons. 



KEARNY AT SEVEN PINES 

(May 31, 1862) 

So that soldierly legend is still on its journey, — 
That story of Kearny who knew not to yield ! 
'Twas the day when with Jameson, fierce Berry, and 
Birney, 
Against twenty thousand he rallied the field. 
(9G) 




Till'; WASIIINCJTON MONUMKNT 
Al W.ishiiiKlon, D. (- 
SlniiKhl soars to heaven Ihe wliile iiiaKiiificence, — 
Free as inati's thoiiK'liI, liiK'li as one Imiely name. 
True iina^e of his soul, serene, immense, — 
Mightiest of monuments and miK'l'liesI fame. 

-Kichiird \\'(it«<in (iildrr. 



HEROES 

Where the red volleys poured, where the clamor rose 
highest, 
Where the dead lay in clumps through the dwarf oak 
and pine. 
Where the aim from the thicket was surest and nighest, — 
No charge like Phil Kearny's along the whole line. 

When the battle went, and the bravest were solemn, 
Near the dark Seven Pines, where we still held our 
ground, 
He rode down the length of the withering column, 

And his heart at our war-cry leapt up with a bound ; 
He snuffed, like his charger, the wind of the powder, — 

His sword waved us on and we answered the sign: 
Loud our cheer as we rushed, but his laugh rang the 
louder, 
" There's the devil's own fun, boys, along the whole 
line!" 

How he strode his brown steed ! How we saw his blade 
brighten 

In the one hand stiU left, — and the reins in his teeth ! 
He laughed like a boy when the holidays heighten. 

But a soldier's glance shot from his visor beneath. 
Up came the reserves to the mellay infernal. 

Asking where to go in, — through the clearing or 
pine? 
" O, anywhere ! Forward ! 'Tis all the same. Colonel : 

You'll find lovely fighting along the whole line ! '* 

O, evil the black shroud of night at Chantilly, 

That hid him from sight of his brave men and tried ! 

Foul, foul sped the bullet that clipped the white lily. 
The flower of our knighthood, the whole army's pride ! 
7 (97) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Yet we dream that he still, — in that shadowy region 
Where the dead form their ranks at the wan drummer's 
sign, — 
Rides on, as of old, down the length of his legion, 
And the word still is Forward ! along the whole line. 
Edmund Clarence Stedman. 
By 'permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Company, from Stedman's Compijste Poetical Works. 



RIDING WITH KILPATRICK 

(Brandy Station, June 17, 1863) 

Dawn peered through the pines as we dashed at the ford ; 
Afar the grim guns of the infantry roared; 
There were miles yet of dangerous pathway to pass, 
And Moseby might menace, and Stuart might mass; 
But we mocked every doubt, laughing danger to scorn, 
As we quaffed with a shout from the wine of the morn ; 
Those who rode with Kilpatrick to valor were bom ! 

How we chafed at delay ! How we itched to be on ! 
How we yearned for the fray where the battle-reek shone ! 
It was forward, not halty stirred the fire in our veins. 
When our horses' feet beat to the clink of the reins ; 
It was charge, not retreat, we were wonted to hear ; 
It was charge, not retreat, that was sweet to the ear ; 
Those who rode with Kilpatrick had never felt fear ! 

At last the word came, and troop tossed it to troop ; 
Two squadrons deployed with a falcon-like swoop; 
While swiftly the others in echelons formed, 
For there, just ahead, was the line to be stormed. 

(98) 



HEROES 

The trumpets rang out ; there were guidons ablow ; 
The white summer sun set our sabres aglow ; 
Those who rode with Kilpatrick charged straight at the 
foe! 

We swept like the whirlwind ; we closed ; at the shock 

The sky seemed to reel and the earth seemed to rock. 

Steel clashed upon steel with a deafening sound, 

While a redder than rose-stain encrimsoned the ground. 

If we gave back a space from the fierce pit of hell, 

We were rallied again by a voice like a bell ; 

Those who rode with Kilpatrick rode valiantly well ! 

Rang sternly his orders from out of the wrack; 
Re-form there, New Yorkers! You, Harris Light, back! 
CoTTie on, men of Maine! we will conquer or foil! 
Now, forward, hoys, forward, and follow me, all! 
A Bayard in boldness, a Sidney in grace, 
A lion to lead, and a stag-hound to chase^ — 
Those who rode with Kilpatrick looked Death in the 
face! 

Though brave were our foemen, they faltered and fled; 
Yet that was no marvel when such as he led ! 
Long ago, long ago, was that desperate day I 
Long ago, long ago, strove the Blue and the Gray ! 
Praise God that the red sun of battle is set ! 
That our hand-clasp is loyal and loving — and yet 
Those who rode with Kilpatrick can never forget! 

Clinton Scollard. 
By permission, Scollard ^ Rice, Ballads of Valor akd Victobt, 
Fleming H. Revell Co. 



(99) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 



LITTLE GIFFEN 

Out of the focal and foremost fire, 
Out of the hospital walls as dire ; 
Smitten of grape-shot and gangrene, 
(Eighteenth battle, and he sixteen!) 
Spectre ! such as you seldom see. 
Little Giffen, of Tennessee ! 

" Take him and welcome ! " the surgeons said ; 
Little the doctor can help the dead ! 
So we took him ; and brought him where 
The balm was sweet in the summer air ; 
And we laid him down on a wholesome bed, — 
Utter Lazarus, heel to head! 

And we watched the war with abated breath, — 
Skeleton Boy against skeleton Death. 
Months of torture, how many such? 
Weary weeks of the stick and crutch; 
And still a glint of the steel-blue eye 
Told of a spirit that wouldn't die. 

And didn't. Nay, more ! in death's despite 
The crippled skeleton " learned to write." 
" Dear mother," at first, of course ; and then 
" Dear captain," inquiring about the men. 
Captain's answer : " Of eighty-and-five, 
Giffen and I are left alive." 

Word of gloom from the war, one day; 
Johnson pressed at the front, they say. 
Little Giffen was up and away; 

(100) 



HEROES 

A tear — his first — as he bade good-by, 

Dimmed the glint of his steel-blue eye. 

" I'll write, if spared ! '* There was news of the fight ; 

But none of Giffen. — He did not write. 

I sometimes fancy that, were I king 

Of the princely Knights of the Golden Ring, 

With the song of the minstrel in mine ear, 

And the tender legend that trembles here, 

I'd give the best on his bended knee. 

The whitest soul of my chivalry. 

For " Little Giffen," of Tennessee. 

Francis Orray Ticknor. 
The Poems of Francis Orray Ticknor. Edited and collected by his 
granddaughter. Miss Michelle Cutlif Ticknor. Copyrighted, 
1911, by The Neale Publishing Co., New York. 



READY 

Loaded with gallant soldiers, 

A boat shot in to the land, 
And lay at the right of Rodman's Point, 

With her keel upon the sand. 

Lightly, gayly, they came to shore, 

And never a man afraid; 
When sudden the enemy opened fire 

From his deadly ambuscade. 

Each man fell flat on the bottom 

Of the boat ; and the captain said : 
" If we lie here, we all are captured. 
And the first who moves is dead ! " 
(101) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Then out spoke a negro sailor — 

No slavish soul had lie: 
" Somebody's got to die, boys, 

And it might as well be me ! " 

Firmly he rose, and fearlessly 

Stepped out into the tide; 
He pushed the vessel safely off, 

Then fell across her side : 

Fell, pierced by a dozen bullets, 

As the boat swung clear and free ; 

But there wasn't a man of them there that day 
Who was fitter to d!ie than he ! 

Phoebe Gary. 

By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Hou<jhton 
Mi//lin Co., from Gary's Poems. 

WHEELER AT SANTIAGO 

Into the thick of the fight he went, pallid and sick and 

wan, 
Borne to the front in an ambulance, a ghostly wisp of a 

man; 
But the fighting soul of a fighting man, approved in the 

long ago. 
Went to the front in that ambulance — and the body of 

Fighting Joe ! 

Out from the front they were coming back, smitten of 

Spanish shells — 
Wounded boys from the Vermont hills and the Alabama 

dells. 
" Put them into the ambulance; I'll ride to the front," h^ 

said. 
And he climbed to the saddle and rode right on, that 

little old ex-Confed. 

(102) 



HEROES 

From end to end of the long blue ranks rose up the 

ringing cheers, 
And many a powder-blackened face was furrowed with 

sudden tears, 
As with flashing eyes and gleaming sword, and hair and 

beard of snow, 
Into the hell of shot and shell rode little old Fighting 

Joe! 

Sick with fever and racked with pain, he could not stay 
away. 

For he heard the song of the yester-year in the deep- 
mouthed cannon's bay — 

He heard in the calling song of the guns there was work 
for him to do. 

Where his country's best blood splashed and flowed 
'round the old Red, White, and Blue ! 

Fevered body and hero heart ! this Union's heart to you. 
Beats out in love and reverence — and to each dear boy in 

blue 
Who stood or fell 'mid the shot and shell, and cheered 

in the face of the foe, 
As wan and white, to the heart of the fight rode little old 

Fighting Joe ! 

James Lindsay Gordon. 
By fermission, New York Sun. 

CUB SAWBONES 

When we marched away with the starry flag, 
Ctib Sawbones carried his surgeon's bag; 
But for me — I wanted no " rear " in mine ; 
I shouldered a gun in the fighting line. 

(103) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

So when we had charged up the deadly glade 
Where the dons were lying in ambuscade, 
I was there to take what the others got — 
And the Spaniards gave it, plenty and hot. 

There fell of our crowd in the Mauser hail 
A third — yet never a man did quail, 
But — well, we went back — then came again 
And settled right down to our work like men. 

In open order and firing at will, 
We crawled through a very rough skirmish drill — 
From the trees to the rocks, from the rocks to the trees, 
Just as close to the ground as we could freeze. 

When I noted a tangled thicket sway 
In front about twenty-five yards away, 
I halted, made ready to loosen a storms- 
Till I caught a whiff of iodoform. 

Cub Sawbones, alone with the wounded folk. 
Was cobbling the limbs that the bullets broke ; 
He bent to his task with the tenderest care. 
Though the war-bolts were hissing everywhere. 

I hailed him with our old college yell — 
He grinned, as he watched a bursting shell. 
" You have a great nerve to be here," he said, 
" When you're not a doctor — or wounded — or dead ! " 

Robert Charles Forneri. 
By permusion. New York Sun. 



(104) 



HEROES 



THE DEED OF LIEUTENANT MH^ES 

When you speak of dauntless deeds, 
When you tell of stirring scenes, 
Tell this story of the isles 
Where the endless summer smiles — 
Tell of young Lieutenant Miles 
In the far-off Philippines ! 

'Twas the Santa Ana fight! — 
All along the Tagal line 
From the thickets dense and dire 
Gushed the fountains of their fire ; 
You could mark their rifles' ire, 
You could hear their bullets whine. 

Little wonder there was pause ! 
Some were wounded, some were dead ; 
" Call Lieutenant Miles ! " He came, 
In his eyes a fearless flame. 
" Yonder blockhouse is our aim, ! " 
The battalion leader said. 

" You must take it — how you will ; 

You must break this damned spell ! " 

" Volunteers ! " cried Miles. 'Twas vain, 

For that narrow tropic lane 

'Twixt the bamboo and the cane 

Was a very lane of hell. 

There were five stood forth at last ; 
God above, but they were men ! 
" Come ! " exultantly he saith — 
(105) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Did they falter ? Not a breath ! 
Down the path of hurling death 
The Lieutenant led them then. 

Two have fallen — now ai third ! 
Forward dashed the other three; 
In the onrush of that race 
Ne'er a swerve or stay of pace. 
And the Tagals^ — ^^dare they face 
Such a desperate company ? 

Panic gripped them by the throat — 

Every Tagal rifleman ; 

And as though they seemed to see 

In those charging foemen three 

An avenging destiny, 

Fierce and fast and far they ran. 

So a salvo for the six ! 
So a round of ringing cheers ! 
Heroes of the distant isles 
Where the endless summer smiles — 
Gallant young Lieutenant Miles 
And his valiant volunteers ! 

Clinton Scollard. 
By permission, Scollard ^ Rice, Ballads of Valor and Victory, 
Fleming H. Bevell Co. 



(106) 



HEROES 

THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT 

(At Washington, D. C.) 

Straight soars to heaven the white magnificence, — 
Free as man's thought, high as one lonely name. 
True image of his soul — serene, immense — 
Mightiest of monuments and mightiest fame. 

RiCHAED Watson Gilder. 
By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co. and The Outlook. 

O CAPTAIN ! MY CAPTAIN ! 

(Abraham Lincoln, died April 15, 1865) 

O Captain ! my Captain ! our fearful trip is done ; 

The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought 

is won; 
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting. 
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and 

daring ; 

But O heart ! heart ! heart ! 
O the bleeding drops of red. 

Where on the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead. 

O Captain ! my Captain ! rise up and hear the bells ; 
Rise up — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle 

trills ; 
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths — for you the 

shores a-crowding; 
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces 

turning ; 

(107) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Here, Captain ! dear father ! 
This arm beneath your head ! 

It is some dream that on the deck 
You've fallen cold and dead. 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still ; 
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will ; 
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed 

and done ; 
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object 

won : 

Exult, O shores ! and ring, O bells ! 

But I, with mournful tread. 

Walk the deck my Captain lies. 

Fallen cold and dead. 

Walt Whitman. 
By permission, Whitman, Leaves of Grass^ Douhleday, Page ^ Co 



LINCOLN, THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE 

When the Norn Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour 
Greatening and darkening as it hurried on. 
She left the Heaven of Heroes and came down 
To make a man to meet the mortal need. 
She took the tried clay of the common road — 
Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth, 
Dasht through it all a strain of prophecy ; 
Tempered the heap with thrill of human tears; 
Then mixt a laughter with the serious stuff. 
Into the shape she breathed a flame to light 
That tender, tragic, ever-changing face; 
(108) 



HEROES 

And laid on him a sense of the Mystic Powers, 
Moving — all husht — behind the mortal vail. 
Here was a man to hold against the world, 
A mian to match the mountains and the sea. 

The color of the ground was in him, the red earth; 

The smack and tang of elemental things : 

The rectitude and patience of the clifF ; 

The good-will of the rain that loves all leaves ; 

The friendly welcome of the wayside well ; 

The courage of the bird that dares the sea ; 

The gladness of the wind that shakes the com ; 

The pity of the snow that hides all scars ; 

The secrecy of streams that make their way 

Under the mountain to the rifted rock ; 

The tolerance and equity of light 

That gives as freely to the shrinking flower 

As to the great oak flaring to the wind — 

To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhom 

That shoulders out the sky. Sprung from the West, 

He drank the valorous youth of a new world. 

The strength of virgin forests braced his mind. 

The hush of spacious prairies stilled his soul. 

His words were oaks in acorns ; and his thoughts 

Were roots that firmly gript the granite truth. 

Up from log cabin to the Capitol, 
One fire was on his spirit, one resolve — 
To send the keen ax to the root of wrong. 
Clearing a free way for the feet of God, 
The eyes of conscience testing every stroke. 
To make his deed the measure of a man. 
With the fine gestures of a kingly soul, 
(109) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

He built the rail-pile and he built the State, 
Pouring his splendid strength through every blow: 
The grip that swung the ax in Illinois 
Was on the pen that set a people free. 

So came the Captain with the mighty heart; 

And when the judgment thunders split the house, 

Wrenching the rafters from their ancient rest, 

He held the ridgepole up, and spikt again 

The rafters of the Home. He held his place — 

Held the long purpose like a growing tree — 

Held on through blame and faltered not at praise. 

And when he fell in whirlwind, he went down 

As when a lordly cedar, green with boughs, 

Goes down with a great shout upon the hills. 

And leaves a lonesome place against the sky. 

Edwin Mabkham. 
By permission of the Author, from Lincoi-n and Other Poems. 



MR. VALIANT PASSES OVER 

(January 6, 1919) 

When the Post came and told him that at last 
The pitcher that so faithfully and long 
Had served his fellow-creatures in their thirst 
Was broken at the fountain, Valiant said: 
" I am going to my Father's ; and, although 
Not easily I came to where I am, 
My pains upon the journey were well spent. 
My sword I give to him who shall succeed 
)My pilgrim steps upon the Royal Road; 
My courage and my skill I leave to himi 
(110) 



HEROES 

Who can attain them — but my marks and scars 

I carry with me for my King to see 

As witness of his battles that I fought." 

As he went down into the river, many 

Stood on the bank, and heard him say, " death, 

Where is thy sting? " And as the water grew 

Deeper — " O grave, where is thy victory ? " 

So he passed over, and the trumpets all 

Sounded for him upon the other side. 

John Bunyan, did you laugh in paradise 

For joy to-day, to see your dream come true? 

Amelia Josephine Bu&r. 
By permission, The Outlook. 



ARNOLD WINKELRIED 

" Make way for liberty! " he cried; 

Made way for liberty, and died! 

In arms the Austrian phalanx stood, 

A living wall, a human wood ! 

A wall, where every conscious stone 

Seemed to its kindred thousands grown ; 

A rampart all assaults to bear. 

Till time to dust their frame should wear; 

V tV W r^ ^ ^ 

Opposed to these, a hovering band 

Contended for their native land ; 

Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke 

From manly necks the ignoble yoke. 

And forged their fetters into swords, 

On equal terms to fight their lords ; 

W »l* ^ i|f ^ W 

(111) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

And now the work of life and death 
Hung on the passing of a breath ; 
The fire of conflict burnt within, 
The battle trembled to begin : 
Yet while the Austrians held their ground, 
Point for attack was nowhere found ; 
Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed. 
The unbroken line of lances blazed. 
That line 'twere suicide to meet. 
And perish at their tyrants' feet ; — 
How could they rest within their graves. 
And leave their homes the homes of slaves ? 
Would they not feel their children tread 
With clanging chains above their head? 

It must not be : this day, this hour, 
Annihilates the oppressor's power ; 
All Switzerland is in the field: 
She will not fly, she cannot yield — 
She must not fall ; her better fate 
Here gives her an immortal date. 
Few were the number she could boast ; 
But every freeman was a host. 
And felt as though himself were he 
On whose sole arm hung victory. 
It did depend on one, indeed : 
Behold him — Arnold Winkelried ! 
There sounds not to the trump of fame 
The echo of a nobler name. 
Unmarked, he stood amid the throng 
In rumination deep and long. 
Till you might see, with sudden grace. 
The very thought come o'er his face ; 
(112) 



HEROES i « 

And by the motion of his form 

Anticipate the bursting storm ; 

And by the uplifting of his brow 

Tell where the bolt would strike, and how. 

But 'twas no sooner thought than done ; 
The field was in a moment won ; — 
" Make way for Liberty ! '* he cried: 
Then ran, with arms extended wide, 
As if his dearest friend to clasp; 
Ten spears he swept within his grasp. 
" Make way for Liberty ! " he cried : 
Their keen points met from side to side ; 
He bowed amongst them like a tree, 
And thus made way for Liberty. 

Swift to the breach his comfades fly ; 
" Make way for Liberty ! " they cry, 
And through the Austrian phalanx dart. 
As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart ; 
While, instantaneous as his fall, 
Rout, ruin, panic, scattered all ; — 
An earthquake could not overthrow 
A city with a surer blow. 

Thus Switzerland again was free; 
Thus death made way for Liberty ! 

James MoNXGOMEEr. 



(113) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

BELGIUM, THE BAR-LASS 

The night was still. The King sat with the Queen. 
She sang. Her maidens spun. A peaceful scene. 

Sudden, wild echoes shake the castle wall. 

Their foes come crashing through the outer hall. 

They rush like thunder down the gallery floor. . . . 
. . . Someone has stolen the bolt that bars the door ! 

No pin to hold the loops, no stick, no stave. 
Nothing! An open door, an open grave! 

Then Catherine Bar-lass thrust her naked arm 
(A girPs arm, white as milk, alive and warm) 

Right through the loops from which the bolt was gone ; 
" 'Twill hold (said she) until they break tlie bone — 

My King, you have one instant to prepare ! " 
She said no more, because the thrust was there. 

Oft have I heard that tale of Scotland's King, 
The Poet, and Kate tlie Bar-lass. (Men will sing 

For aye the deed one moment brings to birth — 
Such moments are the ransom of the earth. ) 

Brave Belgium, Bar-lass of our western world, 
Who, when the treacherous Prussian tyrant hurled 

His hordes against our peace, thrust a slight hand. 
So firm, to' bolt our portals and withstand. 

Whatever prove the glory of our affray, 
Thine arm, thy heart, thine act have won the day ! 

A. Mary F. Robinson (Madame Duclaux). 
The IjOndon Times. 

(114) 



HEROES 

INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP 

You know, wc French stormed Ratisbon : 

A mile or so away, 
On a little miound. Napoleon 

Stood on our storming-day ; 
With neck out-thrust, you fancy how. 

Legs wide, arms locked behind. 
As if to balance the prone brow, 

Oppressive with its mind. 

Just as perhaps he mused, " My plans 

That soar, to earth may fall, 
Let once my army-leader, Lannes, 

Waver at yonder wall," — 
Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew 

A rider, bound on bound 
Full-galloping; nor bridle drew 

Until he reached the mound. 

Then off there flung in smiling joy. 

And held himself erect, 
By just his horse*s mane, a boy : 

You hardly could suspect — 
So tight he kept his lips compressed, 

Scarce any blood came through — 
You looked twice ere you saw his breast 

Was all but shot in two. 

" Well," cried he, " Emperor, by God's grace, 

We've got you Ratisbon ! 
The marshal's in the market-place, 

And you'll be there anon 
(115) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

To see your flag-bird flap his vans 

Where I, to hearths desire, 
Perched him' ! " The chief's eye flashed ; his plans 

Soared up again like fire. 

The chief's eye flashed ; but presently 

Softened itself, as sheathes 
A film the mother eagle's eye 

When her bruised eaglet breathes : 
" You're wounded ! " " Nay," his soldier's pride 

Touched to the quick, he said : 
" I'm killed, sire ! " and, his chief beside. 

Smiling, the boy fell dead. 

Robert Browning. 



THE MAID OF ECLUSIER 

How Marcelle Semner, an orphan of France, 

Defended her country without gun or lance, 

Is a tale that will make you most firmly aver 

She won all the honors awarded to her; 

For the Legion of Honor and the Croix de la Guerre 

With the bravest of France she's entitled to share. 

At the Somme the invaders had pushed the French back. 
And at Eclusier's drawbridge pressed hot on their track ; 
But e'er the canal the first Prussian could cross 
Marcelle raised the drawbridge high o'er the deep foss ; 
Far down in its waters the lever she threw 
And unharmed from the shots of the enemy flew. 

And during the night — for a day waited they 
Till their engineers came and built them a way — - 
In a mine hid the stragglers she found in the street — 

(116) 



HEROES 

For like all the brave French, they were slow in retreat — 
And with casks and with bags she filled the old shed, 
Safe hiding the entrance through which they had fled. 

Clothes, food, and drink, she brought to the mine 
Till they could escape within the French line; 
But the last — seventeenth — was caught, though the rain 
Concealed both till close to the cross-country lane. 
When dragged by the sentry to tJie commandant, she 
Was brave as the Maid of Fair Normandy. 

And bravely she faced them — and bravely said then : 

" I did it for France, and I'll do it again 

And again if I'm able. Do what you will. 

An orphan maid's naught." And then high and shrill 

Her challenge rang out at their threat'ning advance, 

" My life would you take.'' I give it to France." 

U. S. Strong. 

By 'permission of the Author. 

BABUSHKA 

Thou whose sunny heart outglows 
Arctic snows ; 

Russia's hearth-fire, cherishing 
Courage almost perishing ; 
Torch that beacons oversea 
Till a world is at thy knee ; 
Babushka the Beloved, 
What Czar can exile thee.'* 

Sweet, serene, unswerving soul. 
To thy goal 

Pressing on such mighty pinions 
Tyrants quake for their dominions 
(117) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

And devise yet heavier key, 
Deeper cell to prison thee, 
Babushka the Beloved, 
Thyself art Liberty. 

Though thy martyr body, old. 

Chains may hold. 

Clearer still thy voice goes ringing 

Over steppe and mountain, bringing, 

Holy mother of the free. 

Millions more thy sons to be, 

Babushka the Beloved, 

What death can silence thee? 

Katherinei Lee Bates. 
By permUsion, Bates, Thk Retinue, /''. F. Dutton ^ Co. 



(HH) 



ON LAND AND SEA 



By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, 
Here once the embattled farmers stood. 

And fired the shot heard round the world. 
Ralph Waldo Emerson. {Concord Hymn.) 
By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co. 



The man that is not moved at what he reads, 
That takes not fire at their heroic deeds, 
Unworthy of the blessings of the brave, 
Is base in kind, and born to be a slave. 

CowPER. {TahJc Talk.) 



(120) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

CADORNA'S RETREAT 
(1917) 

Cold and weary, with sick, dazed brains, 

Lashed and numbed by freezing rains. 

Fiercely pressed by the German bands — 

And little to fight with but poor, bare hands — 

Italy's armies, crazed with pain, 

Run for their lives on the Lombard plain ! 

Only a little time ago 
They scaled vast heights of frozen snow ; 
Their stout hearts braved iced peak and crest. 
Their arms were reaching toward Trieste. 
Strong souls, they strove with might and main — • 
But now they die on the Lombard plain ! 

What men could do, they did. But they 

Were flesh and blood. Their lips were gray 

With deadly cold. They had prayed in need 

For men and giuns, but who gave heed.'' 

They had called to friends for help in vain — 

So they fought with their hands on the Lombard plain ! 

Dear, brave lads of Italy's lands, 

Doing your best with your plucky hands ; 

Hammered and bent by a savage foe — 

Our warm hearts follow wherever you go. 

And the world with plaudits will ring again 

When you make your stand on the Lombard plain ! 

Elizabeth Chandlee Forman. 
By permission, New York Times. 



(121) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

A BALLAD OF ORLEANS 
(1429) 

The fray began at the middle-gate, 

Between the night and the day ; 
Before the matin bell was rung 

The foe was far away. 
There was no knight in the land of France 

Could gar that foe to flee, 
Till up there rose a young maiden, 

And drove them to the sea. 

Sixty forts around Orleans town. 

And sixty forts of stone! 
Sixty forts at our gates last night — 

To-day there is not one! 

Talbot, Suffolk, and Pole are fled 

Beyond the Loire in fear; 
Man}' a captain who would not drink. 

Hath drunken deeply there ; 
Many a captain is fallen and drowned, 

And many a knight is dead ; 
And many die in the mist}^ dawn 

While forts are burning red. 

The blood ran off our spears all night 

As the rain runs off the roofs ; 
God rest their souls that fell i' the fight 

Among our horses' hoofs ! 
They came to rob us of our own 

With sword and spear and lance; 
They fell and clutched the stubborn earth, 

And bit the dust of France! 
(122) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

We fought across the moonless dark 

Against their unseen hands — 
A knight came out of Paradise 

And fought among our bands. 
Fight on, O maiden knight of God, 

Fight on and do not tire — 
For lo ! the misty break o' the day 

Sees all their forts on fire ! 

Sixty forts around Orleans town. 

And sixty forts of stone! 
Sixty forts at our gates last night — 
To-day there is not one! 
Mrs. Daemesteter (A. Mary F. Robinson). 
Poems and Ballads, Murray, London. 

IVRY 

A Song of the Huguenots 

Now glory to the Lord of hosts, from whom all glories 

are! 
And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of 

Navarre ! 
Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance 
Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, oh 

pleasant land of France! 
And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the 

waters. 
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning 

daughters. 

•Hi ¥St * * It: <» 

Hurrah! Hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance 

of war. 
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre. 

(123) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Oh! how our hearts were beating when at the dawn of 

day 
We saw the army of the League drawn out in long 

array; 
With all its priest-led citizens and all its rebel peers 
And Appenzel's stout infantry and Egmont's Flemish 

spears. 

There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of 
our land ; 

And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his 
hand; 

And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's em- 
purpled flood, 

And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his 
blood ; 

And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of 
war, 

To fight for His own holy name, and Henry of Navarre. 

The King is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest ; 
And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant 

crest. 
He looked upon his people, and a tear was in liis eye ; 
He looked upon the traitors, and his gjance was stern 

and high. 
Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to 

wing, 
Down all our line, a deafening shout, " God save our 

lord the King!" 
" And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he 

may — 

(124) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray — 
Press where ye see ray white plurae shine amidst the 

ranks of war, 
And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre." 

Hurray ! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din 

Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring 
culverin. 

The fiery Duke is pricking fast across Saint Andre's 
plain, 

With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne. 

Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of 
France, 

Charge for the Golden Lilies — upon them with the 
lance ! 

A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears 
in rest ; 

A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow- 
white crest ; 

And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guid- 
ing star. 

Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of 
Navarre. 

Now, God be praised, the day is ours ! Mayenne hath 

turned his rein ; 
D'Aumale hath cried for quarter ; the Flemish Count is 

slain ; 
Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a 

Biscay gale ; 
The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and 

cloven mail. 

(125) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

And tlicn, wc Lhought on vengeance, and, all along our 

van, 
" Remember St. Bartholomew ! " was passed from man 

to man ; 
Bill out spake gentle Henry — " No Frenchman is my 

foe: 
Down, down with every foreigner, but let your brethren 

Oh ! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in 

war, 
7Vs our Sovereign Lord King Henry, tlie soldier of 

Navarre ! 

Ho! maidens of Vienna; ho! matrons of Lucerne, 
Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never 

sliall return. 
Ho! Philip, send, for charity, the Mexican pistoles, 
That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor 

spearmen's souls. 
Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms 

Ik' bright ; 
Ho! burghers of Saint Genevieve, keep watch and ward 

to-night ; 
For our (iod iiath crushed the tyrant, our God hath 

raised the slave. 
And mocked the counsel of tlic wise, and the valor of 

the brave, 
'^riien glory to His lioly name, from whom all glories are ; 
And glory to our Sovereign Lord, King Henry of 

Navarre ! 

Macaulay. 



(126) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

VERDUN 

" They shall not pass ! " In dugout and in trench 
The phrase was muttered as the poll us fought. 
The earth and sky were but a shambles, fraught 
With gas and bursting shells and with the drench 
Of shrapnel. Yet, in all the battle stench, 

'Mid horror heaped on horror past all thought 
The thin line stood. A miracle was wrought — 
They could not break the will that held the French. 

Each human soul must meet its own Verdun, 
That crisis when the armies of despair 
Attack the fortress in a serried mass; 
Not by brute strength may this great fight be won, 
But only by the Will that can declare 

In face of all Hell's hosts, " They shall not pass !" 

Berton Braley. 
A Banjo at Ahmaoeddon, lierton Braley. 
Copyright 1017, GisoRaB II. Dokan Company, PubliHhcrt). 



BANNOCKBURN 

(Robert Bruce's Address to Mis Army) 

¥ft tK^ ¥(t iKft f^ 4]^ 

" Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 
Scots, wham Bruce has uften led, 
Welcome to your gory bed, 
Or to glorious victorie. 

" Now's the day, and now's the hour ; 
Sec the front oi" battle lower. 
See approach proud Edward's power — 
Edward ! chains ! and slaverie ! 

(127) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

" Wha will be a traitor knave? 
Wha can fill a coward's grave? 
Wha sae base as be a slave? 

Traitor ! coward ! turn and flee ! 

" Wha for Scotland's king and law 
Freedom's sword will strongly draw, 
Freeman stand, or freeman fa'? 
Caledonia ! on wi' me ! 

" By oppression's woes and pains ! 
By your sons in servile chains ! 
We will drain our dearest veins. 

But they shall be — shall be free ! 

" Lay the proud usurpers low ! 
Tyrants fall in every foe! 
Liberty's in every blow! 

Forward ! let us do, or die ! " 

Robert Burns. 

THE HEART OF THE BRUCE 

The good Lord Douglas paced the deck — 
Oh, but his face was wan ! 
Unlike the flush it used to wear 
When in the battle van. 

" Come, hither, I pray, my trusty knight, 
Sir Simon of the Lee; 
There is a f reit lies near my soul 
I needs must tell to thee. 
(128) 




LINCOLN 

Ami vvlicri ho fi-ll in wliirlwirid, he wciil down 
As when a lordly cedar, greon with boughs, 
(iocs down wilh a great shoul upon the hills, 
And leaves a lonesome place against the sky. 
— lidwin Marlcham (p. HO), 



ON LAND AND SEA 

" Thou know'st the words King Robert spoke 

Upon his dying day ; 

How he bade me take his noble heart 

And carry it far away ; 

" And lay it in the holy soil 

Where once the Saviour trod, 

Since he might not bear the blessed Cross, 

Nor strike one blow for God. 

" Last night as in my bed I lay 
I dreamed a dreamy dream: 
Methought I saw a Pilgrim stand 
In the moonlight's quivering beam. 

" * Why go ye forth, Lord James,' he said, 
* With spear and belted brand ? 
Why do you take its dearest pledge 
From this our Scottish Land? 

" * The sultry breeze of Galilee 
Creeps through its groves of palm ; 
The olives on the Holy Mount 
Stand glittering in the calm. 

" ' But 'tis not there that Scotland's heart 

Shall rest, by God's decree. 

Till the great angel calls the dead 

To rise from earth and sea ! 

" ' Lord James of Douglas, mark my rede ! 
That heart shall pass once more 
In the fiery fight against the foe. 
As it was wont of yore. 
9 (129) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

" * And it shall pass beneath the Cross, 
And save King Robert's vow; 
But other hands shall bear it back, 
Not, James of Douglas, thou.' 

" Now, by the kingly faith, I pray. 
Sir Simon of the Lee — 
For truer friend had never man 
Than thou hast been to me — 

" If ne'er upon the Holy Land 
'Tis mine in life to tread, 
Bear thou to Scotland's kindly earth 
The relics of her dead." 

The tear was in Sir Simon's eye 
As he wrung the warrior's hand — 
" Betide me weal, betide me woe, 
I'll hold by thy command. 

" But if in battle front. Lord James, 
'Tis ours once more to ride, 
Nor force of man, nor craft of friend, 
Shall cleave me from thy side ! " 

And aye we sailed, and aye we sailed, 
Across the weary sea, 
Until one morn the coast of Spain 
Rose grimly on our lee. 



" Why sounds yon Eastern music here 
So wantonly and long; 
And whose the crowd of armed men 
That round yon standard throng? " 
(130) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

" The Moors have come from Africa 
To spoil, and waste, and slay, 
And King Alonzo of Castile 
Must fight with them to-day." 

" Now shame it were," cried good Lord James, 

" Shall never be said of me. 

That I and mine have turned aside 

From the Cross in jeopardie ! 

" Have down, have down, my merry men all ; 
Have down unto the plain ; 
We'll let the Scottish lion loose 
Within the fields of Spain ! " 



" True pilgrims we, by land or sea, 
Where danger bars the way ; 
And therefore are we here. Lord King, 
To ride with thee this day ! " 

The King has bent his stately head. 
And the tears were in his eyne — 
" God's blessing on thee, noble knight. 
For this brave thought of thine ! 

" I know thy name full well, Lord James ; 
And honoured may I be. 
That those who fight beside the Bruce 
Should fight this day for me ! 

" Take thou the leading of the van, 
And charge the Moors amain; 
There is not such a lance as thine 
In all the host of Spain ! " 
(131) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Tlu> Douglas turned toward us then; 
Oh, but Ins glance was liigh! 
" Tliere i« not one of all my men 
Rut is as frank as I. 

" There is not one of all my knifjhts 
Rut bears as true a spear — 
Then — onwards, Scottish gentlemen, 
And think King Robert's hero!" 

» « * w « « 

Rut in behind our path they closed, 
Though vain to let us through ; 
For they were forty thousand men, 
And we were wondrous few. 

" Now, Jesu help thee," said Lord James, 
"Thou kind and true Saint (Mair! 
An' if I may not bring thee olT, 
ril die beside thee there!" 

'i'hen in his stirrups up ho stood, 
So lionlike and bold. 
And held the precious heart aloft 
All in its case of gold. 

He flung it from him far ahead, 

And never s[)aki' he more, 

But — " Pass thee first, thou dauntless heart. 

As thou wert wont of yore ! " 

• «««•« 

(132) 



ONJLANDilANl) SEA 

The roar of fight rose fiercer yet, 
And heavier still the stoiir. 
Till the spears of Spain eanie shivering in, 
And swept away the Moor. 

• •*»«« 

" There lies ahove his niasier's iieiirt, 
The Douglas, stark and grim; 
And woe, that I am living man. 
Not lying there by him ! 

9 V w ^ W W 

" And be thou strong of hoart, liOrd King, 
For this I tell thee sure, 
The sod that drank the Douglas' blood 
Shall never bear the Moor ! " 

We lifted then the good liOrd James, 
And the priceless heart he bore; 
And heavily we steered our shij) 
Towards the Scottish shore. 

No welcome greeted our return, 
Nor clang of martial tread; 
But all were dumb and hushed as death 
Before the mighty dead. 

We laid our chief in Doughis Kirk, 
The heart in fair Melrose ; 
And woeful men were we that day — 
God grant their souls repose ! 

William Kdmondstounk Aviodn. 
(133) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 
EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN 

News of battle ! — news of battle ! 
Hark ! 'tis ringing down the street ; 
And the archways and the pavement 
Hear the clang of hurrying feet. 
News of battle ! Who hath brought it ? 
News of triumph? Who should bring 
Tidings from our noble army, 
Greetings from our gallant king? 

All last night we watched the beacons 
Blazing on the hills afar, 
Each one bearing, as it kindled. 
Message of the open war. 
All night long the northern streamers 
Shot across the trembling sky — 
Fearful lights that never beckon 
Save when kings or heroes die. 

News of battle ! Who hath brought it ? 
All are thronging to the gate ; 
" Warder — warder! open quickly! 
Man — is this a time to wait? " 
All the heavy gates are opened : 
Then a murmur long and loud. 
Then a cry of fear and wonder 
Bursts from out the bending crowd. 

For they see in battered harness 
Only one hard-stricken man ; 
And his weary steed is wounded 
And his cheek is pale and wan. 
(134) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

Spearless hangs a bloody banner 
In his weak and drooping hand — 
What ! can that be Randolph Murray, 
Captain of the city band? 

^ V ^ ^ W^ w 

Right bitter was the agony 
That wrung that soldier proud: 
Thrice did he strive to answer, 
And thrice he groaned aloud. 
Then he gave the riven banner 
To the old man's shaking hand, 
Saying: " That is all I bring ye 
From the harvest in the land. 

" Ay ! ye may look upon it — 
It was guarded well and long, 
By your brothers and your children. 
By the valiant and the strong. 
One by one they fell around it. 
As the archers laid them low. 
Grimly dying, still unconquered. 
With their faces to the foe." 

William Edmondstoune Aytotin. 
Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers. 

SONG OF THE WESTERN MEN 

A good sword and a trusty hand, 
A merry heart and true ; 
King James's men shall understand 
What Cornish lads can do. 
And have they fixed the where and when. 
And shall Trelawney die.? 
(135) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Then twenty thousand Cornish men 

Will know the reason why. 

What! will they scorn Tre, Pol, and Pent 

And shall Trelawney die? 

Then twenty thousand underground 

Will know the reason why. 

Out spake the captain brave and bold, 

A merry wight was he : 

" Though London's Tower were Michael's hold, 

We'll set Trelawney free. 

We'll cross the Tamar hand to hand. 

The Exe shall be no stay ; 

We'll side by side from strand to strand, 

And who shall bid us nay? 

What! will they scorn Tre, Pol, and Pen? 

And shdll Trelawney die? 

Then twenty thousand Cornish men 

Will know the reason why. 

" And when we come to London wall 

We'll shout with it in view, 

' Come forth, come forth, ye cowards all ! 

We're better men than you ! 

Trelawney, he's in keep and hold, 

Trelawney, he may die ; 

But here's twenty thousand Cornish bold 

Will know the reason why ! ' 

What! will they scorn Tre, Pol, and Pen? 

And shdll Trelawney die? 

Then twenty thousand underground 

Will know the reason why." 

Robert Stephen Hawxer, 

(136) 



ON LAND AND SEA 
HENRY V TO HIS TROOPS 

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; 

Or close the wall up with our English dead. 

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man 

As modest stillness and humility : 

But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 

Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. 

Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage ; 

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 

Let it pry through the portage of the head 

Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it 

As fearfully as doth a galled rock 

O'erhang and jutty his confounded base. 

Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean. 

Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide. 
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
To its full height ! On, on, you noblest English, 
Whose blood is fed from fathers of war-proof ! 
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 
Have, in these parts, from morn till even, fought. 
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument; 
Be copy now to men of grosser blood. 
And teach them how to war. 

And you, good yeomen, 
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here 
The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear 
That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not ; 
For there is none of you so mean and base, 
That hath not noble luster in your eyes. 

(137) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot ; 
Follow your spirit: and, upon this charge, 
Cry : " God for Harry, England, and St. George ! " 
William Shakespeake. {Henry V.) 

ADMIRALS ALL 

Effingham, Grenville, Raleigh, Drake, 
Here's to the bold and free ! 
Benbow, Collingwood, Byron, Blake, 
Hail to the Kings of the Sea ! 
Admirals all, for England's sake. 
Honour be yours and fame ! 
And honour, as long as waves shall break, 
To Nelson's peerless name ! 

Admirals oil, for England'' s sake. 
Honour he yours and fame! 
And honour, as long as waves shall break. 
To Nelson's peerless name! 

Essex was fretting in Cadiz Bay 
With the galleons fair in sight ; 
Howard at last must give him his way. 
And the word was passed to fight. 
Never was schoolboy gayer than he. 
Since holidays first began : 
He tossed his bonnet to wind and sea. 
And under the guns he ran. 

Drake nor devil nor Spaniard feared, 
Their cities he put to the sack ; 

(138) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

He singed his Catholic Majesty's beard, 

And harried his ships to wrack. 

He was playing at Plymouth a rubber of bowls 

When the great Armada came; 

But he said, " They must wait their turn, good souls, 

And he stooped, and finished the game. 

Fifteen sail were the Dutchmen bold, 

Duncan he had but two ; 

But he anchored them fast where the Texel shoaled 

And the colors aloft he flew. 

" I've taken the depth to a fathom," he cried, 

" And I'll sink with a right good will ; 

For I know when we're all of us under the tide. 

My flag will be fluttering still." 

Splinters were flying above, below, 

When Nelson sailed the sound : 

" Mark you, I wouldn't be elsewhere now," 

Said he, " for a thousand pound ! " 

The Admiral's signal bade him fly. 

But he wickedly wagged his head ; 

He clapped the glass to his sightless eye 

And " I'm damned if I see it," he said. 

Admirals all, they said their say 
(The echoes are ringing still) ; 
Admirals all, they went their way 
To the haven under the hill. 
But they left us a kingdom none can take, 
The realm of the circling sea. 
To be ruled by the rightful sons of Blake 
And the Rodneys yet to be. 

(139) 



VERSEJFOR PATRIOTS 

Admirals all, for England's sake. 
Honour be yours and fame! 
And honour, as long as waves shall break. 
To Nelson's peerless name! 

Henky Newbolt. 
By permission, Newbolt, Collected Poems, Thomas Nelson ^i; Sons. 



SEA BALLAD 

" How many? " said our good Captain. 
" Twenty sail and more." 
We were homeward bound, 

Scudding in a gale with our jib towards the Nore. 
Right athwart our tack, 
The foe came thick and black. 
Like Hell-birds and foul weather — you might count 
them by the score. 

The Betsy Jane did slack 
To see the game in view. 
They knew the Union Jack, 
And the tyrant's flag we knew ! 
Our Captain shouted, " Clear the decks ! " and the 
Bo'sun's whistle blew. 

Then our gallant Captain, 

With his hand he seiz'd the wheel, 

And pointed with his stump to the middle of the foe. 

" Hurrah, lads, in we go ! " 

(You should hear the British cheer, 

Fore and aft.) 

(140) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

" There are twenty sail," sang he, 

" But little Betsy Jane bobs to nothing on the sea ! " 

(You should hear the British cheer, 

Fore and aft.) 

" See yon ugly craft 

With the pennon at her main! 

Hurrah, my merry boys, 

There goes the Betsy Jane ! " 

(You should hear the British cheer, 

Fore and aft.) 

The foe, he beats to quarters, and the Russian bugles 
sound ; 

And the little Betsy Jane she leaps upon the sea. 
" Port and starboard ! " cried our Captain ; 

" Pay it in, my hearts ! " sang he. 

" We're old England's sons, 
And we'll fight for her to-day ! " 
(You should hear the British cheer, 
Fore and aft.) 

" Fire away ! " 
In she runs, 
And her guns 
Thunder round. 

Sydney Dobell. 



(141) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

THE REVENGE 

(A Ballad of the Fleet) 

At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay, 

And a pinnace, like a fluttered bird, came flying from 
far away: 

" Spanish ships of war at sea ! we have sighted fifty- 
three ! " 

Then swore Lord Thomas Howard : " 'Fore God I am 
no coward ; 

But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of 
gear. 

And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow 
quick. 

We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty- 
three? " 

Then spake Sir Richard Grenville : " I know you are 

no coward; 
You fly them for a moment to fight with them again. 
But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore. 
I should count myself the coward if I left them, my 

Lord Howard, 
To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain." 

So Lord Howard passed away with five ships of war 

that day. 
Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven ; 
But Sir Richard bore in hand all the sick men from the 

land 
Very carefully and slow. 
Men of Bideford in Devon, 
And we laid them on the ballast down below; 
For we brought them all aboard, 

(14^) 



ON|LAND AND SEA 

And they blest him in their pain, that they were not 

left to Spain; 
To the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory of the 

Lord. 

He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to 
fight. 

And he sailed away from Flores till the Spaniard came 
in sight, 

With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow. 

" Shall we figiht or shall we fly ? 

Good Sir Richard, tell us now ; 

For to fight is but to die ! 

There'll be little of us left by the time this sun be set." 

And Sir Richard said again : " We be all good Eng- 
lish men. 

Let us bang those dogs of Seville, the children of the 
devil; 

For I never turned my back upon Don or devil yet." 

Sir Richard spoke and he laughed, and we roared a 

hurrah, and so 
The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe. 
With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick 

below ; 
For half their fleet to the right and half to the left were 

seen. 
And the little Revenge ran on through the long sea-lane 

between. 

Thousands of their soldiers looked down from their 

decks and laughed, 
Thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little 

craft 

(143) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Running on and on, till delayed 

By their mountain-like San Philip that, of fifteen hun- 
dred tons, 

And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers 
of guns, 

Took the breath from our sails, and we stayed. 

And while now the great San Philip hung above us like 

a cloud 
Whence the thunderbolt will fall 
Long and loud. 
Four galleons drew away 
From the Spanish fleet that day. 
And the battle thunder broke from them all. 

But anon the great San Philip, she bethought herself 
and went. 

Having that within her womb that had left her ill con- 
tent ; 

And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us 
hand to hand. 

For a dozen times they came with their pikes and mus- 
queteers, 

And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes 
his ears 

When he leaps from the water to the land. 

And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over 

the summer sea. 
But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the 

fifty-three. 
Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-buUt 

galleons came; 

(144) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with 

her dead and her shame. 
For some were sunk and many were shattered, and so 

could fight us no more — 
God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world 

before? 

For he said, " Fight on ! fight on ! " 

Though his vessel was all but a wreck ; 

And it chanced that, when half of the short summer 

night was gone. 
With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck ; 
But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly 

dead. 
And himself he was wounded again in the side and the 

head; 
And he said, " Fight on ! fight on ! " 

Mf^ f^ f^ V W V 

And the gunner said, " Ay, ay," but the seamen made 

reply : 
" We have children, we have wives. 
And the Lord hath spared our lives. 
We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let 

us go; 
We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow." 
And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe. 

And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him 

then. 
Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard 

caught at last. 
And they praised him to his face with their courtly 

foreign grace; 

10 (145) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

But he rose upon their decks, and he cried: 

" I have fought for Queen and Faith Hke a valiant man 

and true; 
I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do. 
With a joyful spirit I, Sir Richard Grenville, die! " 
And he fell upon their decks and he died. 

And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant 

and true, 
And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap 
That he dared her with one little ship and his English 

few; 
Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they 

knew. 
But they sank his body with honour down into the deep, 
And they manned the Revenge >vith a swarthier alien 

crew, 
And away she sailed with her loss and longed for her 

own ; 
When a wind from the lands they had ruined awoke from 

sleep. 
And the water began to heave and the weather to moan. 
And or ever that evening ended n great gale blew, 
And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake 

grew. 
Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts 

and their flags, 
And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shattered 

navy of Spain, 
And the little Revenge herself went down by the island 

crags. 
To be lost evermore in the main. 

Tennyson. 
(146) 



ON LAND AND SEA 



THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE 

Half a league, half a league, 
Half a league onward; 
All in the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 
" Forward, the Light Brigade ! 
Charge for the guns ! " he said : 
Into the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 

" Forward, the Light Brigade ! " 
Was there a man dismay'd.'' 
Not tho' the soldier knew 

Some one had blunder'd. 
Theirs not to make reply, 
Theirs not to reason why,, 
Theirs but to do and die : 
Into the valle}^ of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon in front of them 

Volley'd and thunder'd; 
Storm'd at with shot and shell, 
Boldly they rode and well, 
Into the jaws of Death, 
Into the mouth of Hell 

Rode the six hundred. 

(147) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Flash'd all their sabres bare, 
Flash'd as they turn'd in air 
Sabring the gunners there, 
Charging an army, while 

All the world wonder'd: 
Plunged in the battery smoke. 
Right thro' the line they broke ; 
Cossack and Russian 
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke 

Shatter'd and sunder'd. 
Then they rode back ; but not. 

Not the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon behind them 

Volleyed and thunder'd ; 
Storm'd at with shot and shell. 
While horse and hero fell. 
They that had fought so well 
Came thro' the jaws of Death, 
Back from the mouth of Hell, 
All that was left of them. 

Left of six hundred. 

When can their glory fade? 
O the wild charge they made ! 

All the world wonder'd. 
Honor the charge they made ! 
Honor the Light Brigade, 

Noble six hundred. 

Tennyson. 

(148) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

THE CHARGE OF THE HEAVY BRIGADE AT 
BALACLAVA 

The charge of the gallant three hundred, the Heavy 

Brigade ! — 
Down the hill, down the hill, thousands of Russians, 
Thousands of horsemen, drew to the valley — and stay'd ; 
For Scarlett and Scarlett's three hundred were riding by 
When the points of the Russian lances broke in on the 

sky; 
And he call'd, " Left wheel into line ! " and they wheel'd 

and obey'd. 
Then he look'd at the host that had halted he knew not 

why. 
And he turn'd half round, and he bade his trumpeter 

sound 
To the charge, and he rode on ahead, as he waved his 

blade 
To the gallant three hundred whose glory will never 

die— 
" Follow," and up the hill, up the hill, up the hill, 
Follow'd the Heavy Brigade. 

The trumpet, the gallop, the charge, and the might of 

the fight ! 
Down the hill, slowly, thousands of Russians 
Drew to the valley, and halted at last on the height. 
With a wing push'd out to the left, and a wing to the 

right — 
But Scarlett was far on ahead, and he dash'd up alone 
Thro' the great gray slope of men. 
And he wheel'd his sabre, he held his own 
Like an Englishman there and then ; 

(149) 



VERSE FOR|:PATRIOTS 

And the tliree that were nearest him follow'd with force, 
Wedded themselves in between horse and liorse, 
Fought for tlieir lives in the narrow gap they had made, 
Four amid thousands ; and up the hill, up the hill 
Gallopt the gallant three hundred, the Heavy Brigade. 

Fell like a cannon shot. 
Burst like a thunderbolt, 
Crash'd like a hurricane, 
Broke thro' the midst of the foe. 
Plunged up and down, to and fro. 
Rode flashing blow upon blow. 
Brave Inniskillens and Greys 
Whirling their sabres in circles of light! 
And some of us, all in ama/e, 
Who were held for awhile from the fight. 
And were only standing at gaze. 
When the dark-muffled Russian crowd 
Folded its wings from the left and the right. 
And roll'd them around like a cloud, — 
O, mad for the charge and the battle were we. 
When our own good redcoats sank from sight. 
Like drops of blood in a dark-gray sea. 
And we turn'd to each other, muttering, all dismay'd. 
Lost are the gallant three hundred of Scarlett's Brigade. 
But they rode like victors and lords 
Thro' the forest of lances and swords 
In the heart of the Russian hordes ; 
They rode, or they stood at bay — 
Struck with the sword-hand and slew, 
Down with the bridle-hand drew 
The foe from the saddle and threw 
Underfoot there in the fray — 

(150) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

Ranged like a storm or stood like a rock 

In the wave of a stormy day ; 

Till suddenly shock upon shock 

Stagger'd the mass from without, 

For our men gallopt up with a cheer and a shout, 

And the Russian surged, and waver'd, and reel'd 

Up the hill, up the hill, up the hill, out of the field, 

Over the brow and away. 

Glory to each and to all, and the charge that they made ! 
Glory to all the three hundred, the Heavy Brigade! 

Tennyson. 

THE DEFENSE OF LUCKNOW 

Banner of England, not for a season, O banner of Brit- 
ain, hast thou 

Floated in conquering battle or flapt to the battle-cry ! 

Never with mightier glory than when we had rear'd thee 
on high 

Flying at top of the roofs in the ghastly siege of 
Lucknow — 

Shot thro' the staff of the halyard, but ever we raised thee 
anew, 

And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England 
blew. 

Frail were the words that defended the hold that we held 
with our lives — 

Women and children among us, God help them, our chil- 
dren and wives! 

Hold it we might — and for fifteen days or for twenty at 
most. 

" Never surrender, I charge you, but every man die at his 
post ! " 

(151) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Voice of the dead whom we loved, our Lawrence, the best 

of the brave : 
Cold were his brows when we kiss'd him — we laid him 

that night in his grave. 
" Every man die at his post ! " and there hail'd on our 

houses and halls 
Death from their rifle-bullets, and death from their can- 
non-balls. 
Death in our innermost chamber, and death at our slight 

barricade, 
Death while we stood with the musket, and death while 

we stoopt to the spade. 
Death to the dying, and wounds to the wounded, for often 

there fell 
Striking the hospital wall, crashing thro* it, their shot 

and their shell. 
Death — for their spies were among us, their marksmen 

were told of our best. 
So that the brute bullet broke thro* the brain that could 

think for the rest. 
Bullets would sing by our forehesids, and bullets would 

rain at our feet — 
Fire from ten thousand at once of the rebels that girdled 

us round — 
Death at the glimpse of a finger from over the breadth 

of a street. 
Death f romi the heights of the mosque and the palace, and 

d^ath in the ground. 
Mine.'' yes, a mine ! Countermine ! down, down ! and creep 

thro' the hole ! 
Keep the revolver in hand ! You can hear him — the mur- 
derous mole. 

(152) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

Quiet, ah! quiet — wait till the point of the pickaxe be 

thro'. 
Click with the pick, coming nearer and nearer again 

than before — 
Now let it speak, and you fire, and the dark pioneer is no 

more; 
And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England 

blew. 

^ ^ V V ^F ^ 

Hark ! cannonade, fusilade ! is it true what was told by 

the scout? 
Outram and Havelock breaking their way thro' the fell 

mutineers ! 
Surely the pibroch of Europe is ringing again in our 

ears ! 
All on a sudden the garrison utters a jubilant shout; 
Havelock's glorious Highlanders answer with conquering 

cheers, 
Forth from their holes and their hidings our women and 

children come out. 
Blessing the wholesome white faces of Havelock's good 

fusileers. 
Kissing the war-harden'd hand of the Highlander wet 

with their tears ! 
Dance to the pibrbch ! — saved ! we are saved ! — is it you? 

is it you? 
Saved by the valor of Havelock, saved by the blessing 

of Heaven ! 
" Hold it for fifteen days ! " we have held it for eighty- 
seven ! 
And ever aloft on the palace roof the old banner of 

England blew. 

Tennyson. 
(153) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 



THE GUARDS CAME THROUGH 

Men of the Twenty-first 

Up by the Chalk Pit Wood, 
Weak witli our wounds and our tliirst, 

Wanting our slee]) and our food, 
After a day and a night — 

God, shall we ever forget ! 
Beaten and broke in the fight, 

But sticking it — sticking it yet. 
Trying to hold the line, 

Fainting and spent and done, 
Always the thud and the whine, 

Always the yell of the Hun ! 
Northumberland, Lancaster, York, 

Durham and Somerset, 
Fighting alone, worn to the bone, 

But sticking it — sticking it yet. 

N(^ver a message of hope ! 

Never a word of cheer ! 
Fronting Hill 70's shell-swept slope. 

With the dull dead j^lain in our rear. 
Always the whine of the shell. 

Always the roar of its burst. 
Always the tortures of hell. 

As waiting and wincing we cursed 
Our luck and the guns and the Boche, 

When our Corporal shouted, " Stand to ! " 
And I heard some one cry, " Clear the front 

for the Guards !" 
And the Guards came through. 
(164) 



ON LAND AND|SEA 

Our throats they were parched and hot ; 

But, Lord, if you'd heard the cheers ! 
Irish and Welsh and Scot, 

Coldstream and Grenadiers. 
Two brigades, if you please. 

Dressing as straight as a hem, 
We — we were down on our knees. 

Praying for us and for them ! 
Lord, I could speak for a week. 

But how could you understand? 
How should your cheeks be wet? 

Such feelin's don't come to you. 
But when can me or my mates forget, 

When the Guards came through? 

" Five yards left extend ! " 

It passed from rank to rank. 
Line after line with never a bend, 

And a touch of the London swank. 
A trifle of swank and dash. 

Cool as a home parade, 
Twinkle and glitter and flash, 

Flinching never a shade. 
With the shrapnel right in their face, 

Doing their Hyde Park stunt. 
Keeping their swing at an easy pace, 

Arms at the trail, eyes front! 
Man, it was great to see ! 

Man, it was fine to do ! 
It's a cot and a hospital ward for me, 

But I'll tell 'em in Blighty, wherever I be, 
How the Guards came through. 

Arthur Conan Doyle. 

By permission. The London Times. 

(155) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 



THE SPIRES OF OXFORD 

I saw the spires of Oxford 

As I was passing by, 
The gray spires of Oxford 

Against a pearl-gray sky. 
My heart was with the Oxford men 

Who went abroad to die. 

The years go fast in Oxford, 

The golden years and gay, 
The hoary colleges look down 

On careless boys at play. 
But when the bugles sounded war 

They put their games away. 

They left the peaceful river, 

The cricket-field, the quad. 
The shaven lawns of Oxford 

To seek a bloody sod — 
They gave their merry youth away 

For country and for God. 

God rest you, happy gentlemen. 
Who laid your good lives down. 

Who took the khaki and the gun 
Instead of cap and gown. 

God bring you to a fairer place 
Than even Oxford town. 

WiNiFEED M. Letts. 

By permission of E. P, Dutton §[ Co. 

(156) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

WARREN'S ADDRESS TO THE AMERICAN 
SOLDIERS 

(At Bunker Hill) 

Stand ! the ground's your own, my braves ! 
Will ye give it up to slaves? 
Will ye look for greener graves? 

Hope ye mercy still? 
What's the mercy despots feel? 
Hear it in that battle-peal ! 
Read it on yon bristling steel ! 

Ask it — ye who will. 

Fear ye foes who kill for hire? 
Will ye to your homes retire? 
Look behind you ! they're a-fire ! 

And, before you, see 
Who have done it ! — From the vale 
On they come ! — And will ye quail ? — 
Leaden rain and iron hail 

Let their welcome be ! 

In the God of battles trust ! 
Die we may — and die we must; 
But, O, where can dust to dust 

Be consigned so well, 
As where Heaven its dews shall shed 
On the martyred patriot's bed, 
And the rocks shall raise their head, 

Of his deeds to tell ! 

John Pieepont. 

(157) 



VEliSE FOR PATRIOTS 



THE REVOLUTIONARY RISING 

Out of the North the wild news came, 

Far flasliing on its wings of flame, 
Swift as the boreal light which flies 

At midnight through the startled skies. 
And there was tumult in the air — 

The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat, 
And through the wide land everywhere 

The answering tread of hurrying feet ; 
While the first oath of Freedom's gun 
Came on the blast from Lexington ; 
And Concord roused, no longer tame. 
Forgot her old baptismal name, 
Made bare her patriot arm of power. 
And swelled the discord of the hour. 



The pastor came ; his snowy locks 

Hallowed his brow of thought and care ; 
And calmly, as shepherds lead their flocks. 

He led into the house of prayer. 
Then soon he rose ; the prayer was strong ; 
The psalm was warrior David's song; 
The text, a few short words of might, — 
" The Lord of hosts shall arm the right! " 
He spoke of wrongs too long endured. 
Of sacred rights to be secured; 
Then from his patriot tongue of flame 
The startling words for Freedom came. 
The stirring sentences he spake 
Compelled the heart to glow or quake, 
(168) 



ON LAND^AND SEA 

And, rising on his theme's broad wing, 
And grasping in his nervous hand 
The imaginary battle-brand, 

In face of death he dared to fling 

Defiance to a tyrant king. 

And now before the open door — 

The warrior priest had ordered so — 
The enlisting trumpet's sudden roar 

Rang through the chapel, o'er and o'er. 
Its long reverberating blow, 
So loud and clear, it seemed the ear 
Of dusty death must wake and hear. 
And there the startling drum and fife 
Fired the living with fiercer life ; 
While overhead, with wild increase. 
Forgetting its ancient toll of peace, 

The great bell swung as ne'er before: 
It seemed as it would never cease; 
And every word its ardor flung 
From off" its jubilant iron tongue 

Was, "War! War! War!" 

" Who dares? " — this was the patriot's cry. 
As striding from the desk he came, — 
" Come out with me, in Freedom's name. 

For her to live, for her to' die.^* " 

A hundred hands flung up reply, 

A hundred voices answered, " I." 

Thomas Buchanan Read. 
By pemmsion, Bead, Poems, /. B. Lippincott Company. 



(159) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

THE DEFENSE OF THE ALAMO 

(March 6, 1836) 

Santa Ana came storming, as a storm might comie; 

There was rumble of cannon ; there was rattle of blade ; 
There was cavalry, infantry, bugle and drum, — 

Full seven thousand, in pomp and parade, 
The chivalry, flower of Mexico ; 
And a gaunt two hundred in the Alamo ! 

And thirty lay sick, and some were shot through; 

For the siege had been bitter, and bloody, and long. 
" Surrender or die ! " — " Men, what will you do? " 
And Travis, great Travis, drew sword, quick and 
strong; 
Drew a line at his feet. ..." Will you come.'* Will 

you go? 
I die with my wounded, in the Alamo." 

Then Bowie gasped, " Lead me over that line ! " 

Then Crockett, one hand to the sick, one hand to his 
gun, 

Crossed with him; then never a word or a sign 
Till all, sick or well — all, all save but one, 

One man. Then a woman stepped, praying, and slow 

Across, to die at her post in the Alamo. 

Then that one coward fled, in the night, in that night 
When all men silently prayed and thought 

Of home ; of to-morrow ; of God and the right, 

Till dawn : and with dawn came Travis's cannon-shot, 

In answer to insolent Mexico, 

From the old bell-tower of the Alamo. 

(IGO) 




AS HE Wn.L BE REMEMBERED 
Reproduced by permission, The New York Times, January 12, 1 !)!!». 



ON LAND AND^SEA 

Then came Santa Ana ; a crescent of flame ! 

Then the red escalade; then the fight hand-to-hand; 
Such an unequal fight as never had name 

Since the Persian hordes butchered that doomed Spar- 
tan band, 
All day — all day and all night; and the morning? So 

slow 
Through the battle-smoke mantling the Alamo. 

Now silence ! Such silence ! Two thousiand lay dead 
In a crescent outside ! And within? Not a breath 

Save the gasp of a woman, with gory, gashed head, 
All alone, all alone there, waiting for death ; 

And she but a nurse. Yet where shall we know 

Another like this of the Alamo? 

Shout " Victory, victory, victory ho ! " 
I say 'tis not always to the hosts that win ! 

I say that the victory, high or low. 

Is given to the hero that grapples with sin. 

Or legion or single just asking to know 

When duty fronts death in his Alamo. 

Joaquin Mill.ee. 
By permiaaion. Miller, Poems^ Hair Wagner Pub. Co. 



MONTEREY 

We were not many — we who stood 
Before the iron shot that day ; 

Yet many a gallant spirit would 

Give half his years if he but could 
Have been with us at Monterey. 

11 (161) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Now hero, now tliere, the shot is hailed 
In deudi_y drifts of fiery spray; 

Yet not a single soldier quailed 

When wounded comrades round them wailed 
Their dying shouts at Monterey. 

And on, still on, our coJunin kept 

Through walls of llanic its wiLhering way : 
Where fell the dead the living ste{)t, 
Still charging on the guns which swept 
The slippeiy streets at Monterey. 

The foe himself recoiled aghast, 

When, striking where he strcmgest lay, 

We swooped his flanking batteries past, 

And bniving full their murderous blast. 

Stormed home the towers of Monterey. 

Our banners on our turrets wave, 

And there the evening bugles play, 
Where orange boughs above their grave 
Keep green the memory of the brave 
Who fought and fell at Monterey. 

We are not many - we who [)ressed 

Beside the brave who fell that day; 
But who of us has not confessed 
He'd rather share their warrior rest 
Than not have been at Monterey .'^ 

CiiAKi.Ks Fenno Hoffman. 

/{(/ ptniils.-iiiin, Vin.MH, Joint ('. W'lnslon (\). 



(162) 



ON J.AND AND SEA 



THE GALLANT FIFTY-ONE 

Freedom called them — up they rose, 
Grasped their swords and showered blows 
On the heads of Freedom's foes — 
And Freedom's foes alone. 
Fate decreed that they should die; 
Pitying angels breathed a sigh, 
Freedom wildly wept on high, 
For the gallant Fifty-one ! 

There they stood in proud array ; 
None for mercy there would pray; 
None would coward looks betray — 
All stood forth with fearless eye, 
Showing by their dauntless air 
What their noble souls could dare; 
Showing to the tyrants there 
How freedom's sons could die. 
None there strove their fate to shun — 
Gallant band of Fifty-one ! 

Then a voice the stillness broke: 
'Twas their gallant leader spoke, 
Scorning to receive Death's stroke, 
Kneeling humbly on the sod ! 
Gazing calmly on the dead. 
Whose life-blood had just been shed, 
Proudly then the words he said, 
" Americans kneel but to God ! " 
Perished thus Kentucky's son — 
Leader of the Fifty-one. 
(103) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Rejoice ! sons of Thermiopylne ! 
Kindred spirits join with thee, 
Who fell in fi^ht for Liberty, 
For Freedom's sncred name; 
Future days their deeds shall tell. 
How they nobly fought and fell, 
Youthful bosoms proudly swell 
At mention of their fame — 
Rays of light from Freedom's sun, 
Gallant band of Fifty-one! 

Honor's rays will ever shed 
Glory round their hallowed bed. 
Though their hearts are cold and dead. 
Though their sands of life have run. 
Still their names revered will be 
Among the noble and the free — 
Glorious sons of Liberty; 
Galhmt band of Fifty-one! 

Henry Lynden Flash. 

Poems, copyrighted, 1906, btf the Neale Publishing Co., New York. 



THE GRAY HORSE TROOP 

All alone on tlie hillside — 
I>arry an' Rarry an' me ; 
Nothin' to see but the sky an' the plain, 
Nothin' to see but the drivin' rain, 
Nothin' to sec but the painted Sioux 
Galloping, galloping: "Whoop — whuroo! 
The divil in yellow is down in the mud ! *' 
Sez Larry to Barry, " I'm losin' blood.'* 
(164) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

" Cheers for the Grays ! " yells Barry ; 
" Second Dragoons ! " groans Larry ; 
" Hurrah! hurrah! for Egan's Gray Troop! 
Whoop! ye divils — ye've got to whoop; 
Clieer for the troopers who die : " sez I — 
" Cheer for tlie troop that never shall die ! " 

All alone on the hiUside — 

Larry an' Barry an' me; 

Flat on our bellies, an' pourin' in lead — 

Seven rounds left, an' tiie horses dead — 

Barry a-cursin' at every breath; 

Larry beside him, as white as death ; 

Indians galloping, galloping by, 

Wheclin' and squealin' like hawks in the sky ! 

" Cheers for the Grays ! " yells Barry ; 
" Second Dragoons ! " groans Larry ; 
" Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Egan's Gray Troop ! 
Whoop! ye divils — ye've got to whoop; 
Cheer for the troopers who die : " sez I — 
" Cheer for the troop that never shall die! " 

All alone on the hillside — 

Larry an' Barry an' me; 

Two of us livin' and one of us dead — 

Shot in the head, and God ! — how he bled ! 

" Larry's done up," scz Barry to me ; 

" Divvy his cartridges ! Quick ! gimme tliree ! " 

While nearer an' nearer an' plainer in view. 

Galloped an' galloped the murderin' Sioux. 

" Cheers for the Grays ! " yelled Barry ; 
" Cheer — " an' he falls on Lurry. 
Alas ! alas ! for Egan's Gray Troop ! 
(166) 



VERSEiFORjiPATRIOTS 

The Red Sioux, hovering, stoop to swoop ; 
Two out of three lay dead, while I 
Cheered for the troop that never shsdl die. 

All alone on the hillside — 
■ Larry an' Barry an' me ; 
An' I fired an' yelled till I lost my head, 
Cheerin' the livin', cheerin' the dead, 
Swingin' my cap, I cheered until 
I stumbled and fell. Then over the hill 
There floated a trumpeter's silvery call, 
An' Egan's Gray Troop galloped up, that's all. 

Drink to the Grays, — ^an' Barry ! 

Second Dragoons, — an' Larry ! 

Here's a bumper to Egan's Gray Troop ! 

Let the crape on the guidons droop ; 

Drink to the troopers who die, while I 

Drink to the troop that shall never die ! 

Robert William Chambers. 
By permission, Chambers, With the Band, Stone ^ Kimball. 



THE MEN BEHIND THE GUNS 

A cheer and salute for the Admiral, and here's to the 

Captain bold. 
And never forget the Commodore's debt when the deeds 

of might are told ! 
They stand to the deck through the battle's wreck when 

the great shells roar and screech — 
And never they fear when the foe is near to practice 

what they preach: 

(166) 



ON LAND AND SEA 

But off with your hat and three times three for Colum- 
bia's true-blue sons — 

The men below who batter the foe — the men behind the 
guns ! 



But say not a word till the shot is heard that tells the 

fight is on ; 
Till the long, deep roar grows more and more from the 

ships of " Yank " and " Don; " 
Till over the deep the tempests sweep of fire and bursting 

shell, 
And the very air is a mad Despair in the throes of a 

living heU; 
Then down, deep down, in the mighty ship, unseen by 

the midday suns. 
You'll find the chaps who are giving the raps — the men 

behind the guns ! 

Oh, well they know how the cyclones blow that they 

loose from their cloud of death. 
And they know is heard the thunder-word their fierce ten- 

incher saith ! 
The steel decks rock with the lightning shock, and shake 

with the great recoil, 
And the sea grows red with the blood of the dead and 

reaches for his spoil — 
But not till the foe has gone below or turns his prow 

and runs. 
Shall the voice of peace bring sweet release to the men 

behind the guns ! 

John Jerome Rodney. 

By permission of the AtrrHOR. 

(167) 



DYING FOR ONE'S COUNTRY 
(Going West) 



TRUE PATRIOTISM 

¥^ iH ^ * ^ ^ 

Life would have nothing worth to give 
Had men not for their duty died; 
True patriots would scorn to live 
If they the sacrifice denied. 

O ye who love the soul's free air, 
Who seek the larger hope, arise ! 
For truth and justice do and dare! 
Who cares to live if Freedom dies? 

James Terry White. 
By permission, White, A Garden of Remembbance, James T. White 
^Co. 



(170) 



DYING FOR ONE'S COUNTRY 



THE PLACE TO DIE 

How little recks it where men die, 

When once the moment's past 
In which the dim and glazing eye 

Has looked on earth its last; 
Whether beneath the sculptured urn 

The coffined form shall rest, 
Or in its nakedness, return 

Back to its mother's breast. 

The soldier falls 'mid corses piled 

Upon the battle-plain. 
Where reinless war-steeds gallop wild 

Above the gory slain; 
But though his corse be grim to see, 

Hoof -trampled on the sod. 
What recks it when the spirit free 

Has soared aloft to God? 



'Twere sweet indeed to close our eyes 

With those we cherish near. 
And wafted upward by their sighs, 

Soar to some calmer sphere; 
But whether on the scaffold high. 

Or in the battle's van, 
The fittest place where man can die 

Is where he dies for man ! 

Michael Juland Barry. 



(171) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

REQUIEM 

When the last voyage is ended, 
And the last sail is furled, 

When the last blast is weathered, 
And the last bolt is hurled. 

And there comes no more the sound of the old ship bell- 
Sailor, sleep well ! 

When the Last Post is blown. 

And the last volley fired. 
When the last sod is thrown, 

And the last Foe retired, 
And thy last bivouac is made under the ground — 

Soldier, sleep soimd ! 

Joseph Lee. 

Lee, Ballads of Battle, John Murray, London. 

I TAPS 

Sleep 

Now that the charge is won. 
Sleep in the narrow clod ; 
Now it is set of sun. 
Sleep till the trump of God. 
Sleep. 

Sleep. 

Fame is a bugle call 

Blown past a crumbling wall ; 

Battles are clean forgot; 

Captains and towns are not : 

Sleep shall outlast them all. 

Sleep. 

LiZETTE WOOODWORTH ReESE. 
By permission, Beese^ A Wayside Lutb, Thomas B. Mosher. 

(172) 



DYING FOR ONE'S COUNTRY 

A DEAD SOLDIER 

He sleeps at last — a hero of his race. 
Dead ! — and the night lies softly on his face, 
While the faint summer stars, like sentinels. 
Hover above his lonely resting-place. 

A soldier, yet less soldier than a man, 
Who gave to justice what a soldier can, — 
The courage of his arm, a patient heart, 
And the fire-soul that flamed when wrong began. 

Not Caesar, Alexander, Antonine, 
No despot born of the old warrior line. 
Napoleons of the sword, whose cruel hands 
Caught at the throat of love upon its shrine, — 

But one who worshipped in the sweeter years 

Those rights that men have gained with blood and tears ; 

Who led his armies like a priest of men, 

And fought his battles with anointed spears. 

George Edgab. Montgomery. 

THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD 

The muffled drum's sad roll has beat 

The soldier's last tattoo; 
No more on Life's parade shall meet 

That brave and fallen few. 
On Fame's eternal camping-ground 

Their silent tents are spread. 
And Glory guards, with solemn round, 

The bivouac of the dead. 



(173) 



VERSIC FOR PATRIOTS 

Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone 

In deathless song shall tell, 
When many a vanished age hath flown. 

The story how ye fell ; 
Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight, 

Nor Time's remorseless doom, 
Shall dim one ray of glory's light 

That gilds your deathless tomb. 

Theodore O'Har A. 



BATTLE 

THE GOING 

He's gone. 

I do not understand. 

I only know 

That as he turned to go 

And waved his hand, 

In his yoimgeyes a certain glory shone 

And I was dazzled by a sunset glow. 

And he was gone. 

Wilfred Wilson Gibson. 

By pi>nm»aion, Oibson, Coi.i.eiteo Pokms, Macmillan Co. 

SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE 

(killed in action, JUNE, 1918) 

Dead? when the year is still at June? 
Dead? when his dial points but noon? 
Dead ? ere the full of life's crescent moon ? 
Dead! 

L. H. EVEBLETT. 
By permitfion of th« AmrHOB. 

(174) 



DYING FOR ONE'S COUNTRY 



THE SOLDIER 

If I should die, think only this of me : 

That there's some corner of a foroij^ii field 
That is forever England. There shall be 

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed ; 
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, 

(lavc, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, 
A body of" lOngland's, brcatliing Kriglish air, 

Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home. 

And think, this heart, all evil shed away, 

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less 
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by Knghmd given; 

Her sights and sounds ; dreams happy as her day ; 
And laughter, learnt of friends ; andl gentleness. 

In hearts at peace, under an Etiglish heaven. 

IluPBttT BltOOK£. 
Prom the Collkcteo Pokmh of linperl. Brooke. 
Copyright 1015, by John Lank Co. 



Til K DEAD 

Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead ! 
There*s none of these so lonely and poor of old, 
But, dying, has ina<le us rarer gifts than gold. 
These laid the world away ; [joured out the red 
Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be 
Of work and joy, and tliat unhoped serene. 
That men call age; and those who would have been, 
Their sons, they gave, their immortality. 

(175) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Blow, bugles, blow ! They brought us, for our dearth, 
Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain. 
Honour has come back, as a king, to earth, 
And paid his subjects with a royal wage ; 
And Nobleness walks in our ways again ; 
And we have come into our heritage. 

Rupert Brooke. 
From the Coixected Poems of Rupert Brooke. 
Copyright 1915, by John Lamb Co. 



THE BATTLEFIELD 

They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars. 

Like petals from a rose. 
When suddenly across the June 

A wind with fingers goes. 

They perished in the seamless grass, — 

No eye could find the place ; 
But God on his repealless list 
Can summon every face. 

Emily Dickinson. 
By permission, Dickinson, Poems, copyright Little, Brown ^ Co, 



WE SHALL REMEMBER THEM 

They sleep beneath no immemorial yews ; 

Their resting place no temple arches hem; 
No blazoned shaft or graven tablet woos 

Men's praise — and yet, we shall remember them. 

(176) 



DYING FOR ONE'S COUNTRY 

The unforgetting clouds shall drop their tears ; 

The winds in ceaseless lamentation, wail, 
For God's white Knights are lying on their biers, 

Who vowed their service to restore the Grail. 

They gave their lives to make the whole world free; 

They recked not to what flag they were assigned, 
The Starry Banner, Cross, or Fleur-de-lis — 

Their sacrifice was made for all mankind. 

For them the task is done, the strife is stilled; 

No more shall care disturb, nor zeal condemn; 
And when the larger good has been fulfilled, 

In coming years we shall remember them. 

How can the world their deeds forget.'' In France 
White crosses everywhere lift pallid hands. 

Like silent sentinels with sword and lance, 
To keep their memory safe for other lands. 

What need have they for holy sepulture.'* 

Within the hearts of men is hallowed ground — 

A sanctuary where they rest secure. 

And with Love's immortality are crowned. 

And far-off voices of the future sing, 

" They shall remain in memory's diadem " ; 
And winds of promise still are whispering 

Through storied years, " We shall remember them." 

James Terry White. 
By permission, White, A Garden of Remembhaxce, James T, 
White Co. 

12 (177) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 
THE SOLDIER'S REST 

Soldier rest ! thy warfare o'er, 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; 
Dream of battle-fields no more, 

Days of danger, nights of waking. 
In our isle's enchanted hall, 

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, 
Fairy strains of music fall. 

Every sense in slumber dewing. 
Soldier rest ! thy warfare o'er, 
Dream of battle-field no more; 
Sleep the sleep that know not breaking, 
Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 

Sleep! the deer is in his den; 
Sleep ! thy hounds are b}^ thee lying ; 
Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen, 
How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done, 
Think not of the rising sun. 
For at dawning to assail ye 
Here no bugles sound reveille. 

Walter Scott. 



I HAVE A RENDEZVOUS WITH DEATH 

I have a rendezvous with Death 
At some disputed barricade. 
When Spring comes round with rustling shade 
And apple blossoms fill the air. 
I have a rendezvous with Death 
When Spring brings back blue days and fair. 
(178) 



DYING FOR ONE'S COUNTRY 

It may be he shall take my hand 

And lead me into his dark land 

And close my eyes and quench my breath ; 

It may be I shall pass him still. 

I have a rendezvous with Death 

On some scarred slope of battered hill, 

When Spring comes round again this year 

And the first meadow flowers appear. 

God knows 'twere better to be deep 
Pillowed in silk and scented down, 
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep, 
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath, 
Where hushed awakenings are dear. 
But I've a rendezvous with Death 
At midnight in some flaming town. 
When Spring trips north again this year, 
And I to my pledged word am true, 
I shall not fail that rendezvous. 

Alan Seeger. 
(Killed in action July, 1916.) 
Bif 'permission, Seeger, Poems, Charles Scribner's Son^. 

FOR ENGLAND 

I longed to go to England, 
And walk across the downs, 
I longed to go to England 
To the little English towns 
Where all the brave young English hearts 
Once lived, for which they died : 
I longed to go to England, 
I longed to live in England, 
I longed to be in England 
And share her sorrowing pride. 
(179) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

They lived so strong for England, 
Those poets, grave and gay, 
They died so young for England — 
They're dying every day — 
The haunting music of their songs 
Their braver hearts will tell. 
Because they gave for England, 
Because they fought for England, 
Because they died for England, 
And died, oh, none so well ! 

Juliet Whiton. 

By permission, copyright 1918, Scribneh's Magazine. 



BLAKE'S HOMECOMING 

There was sorrow on the sea. 

All the way, all the way! 
Home toe came with fame, but he 

Dyi/ng, dying all the way. 

At Santa Cruz the squadron lay. 

At dawn the whisper flew, 
*' God be thanked we sail to-day ! " 

Voices sang and trumpets blew. 
All the fleet was like a fair, 

" Pulley hand, and heave, yo ho ! 
Ready here and steady there. 

Let her go. 
Head her northward thro' the bay ! 

# « « « « 4K 

(180), 



DYING FOR ONE'S COUNTRY 

" Waken," hear the searman cry, 

" Waken, Captain, England's near ! " 

Grayer grew the sea and sky, 

Nor'west all tlie land rose clear. 

Dim-eyed, worn with wounds and care, 
On the heaving decks sat Blake ; 

" Tell me where is England, where? " 
So he spake, 

" Let me see her ere I die ! " 

Now the Lizard's past, and lo ! 

All the Cornish hills rise red 
In the Autumn's after-glow. 

" Heaven," was the one word he said. 
" England and not Heaven," wc cried. 

" 'Tis the saniie," he made reply. 
Bonfires blazed out far and wide. 

Lit the sky 
All the way to Plymouth Hoe ! 

Fair the wind and swift the tide; 

Ah, the English air is sweet ! 
People shouted, trumpets cried; 

Then he rose upon his feet, 
Strove to see, but he was blind. 

Strove to walk, but force was spent, 
Felt upon his face the wind, 

Smiled content. 
Tasting English air — and died ! 

Hush the trumpets ! Cease the din ! 
Shores of England, be ye dumb ! 
He is gone, some port to win 

Where your praises cannot come. 

(181) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

On the other side for him 

Blow God's trumpets, clear and far ; 
See his soul pass, fading dim 

Like a star ! 
Shores be still ! He enters in. 

There was glory on the sea. 
All the way, all the way! 
Home we came with fame, but he 
Dying, dying all the way. 

W. J. Dawson. 
From America akd Other Poems, by W. J. Dawson. 
Copyright 1914, by John Lane Co. 



MONUMENT ENOUGH 

Where I shall fall upon mj battle-ground 
There may I rest — nor carry me away. 
What holier hills could in these days be found 
Than hills of France to hold a soldier's clay ? 
Nor need ye place a cross of wooden stuff 
Over my head to mark my age and name ; 
This very ground is monument enough ! 
'Tis all I wish of show or outward fame. 
Deep in the hearts of fellow countrymen 
My fast immortal sepulchre shall be, 
Greater than all the tombs of ancient kings. 
What matter where my dust shall scatter then ? 
I shall have served my country oversea 
And loved her — dying with a heart that sings. 

Ray Gauger. 

By permission, The Chicago Tribune. 

(182) 



DYING FOR ONE'S COUNTRY 

FOUR EPITAPHS 

For a general grave on Vimy Ridge. 

You come from England ; is she England still ? 
Yes, thanks to you that died upon this hill. 

On some who died early vn the eve of battle. 
Went the day well ? we died and never knew ; 
But well or ill, England, we died for you. 

On those who died at the Battle of Jutland. 
Proud we went down, and there content we lie 
'Neath English sea if not 'neath English sky. 

For a milage war-memorial. 

Ye that live on 'mid English pastures green, 

Remember us, and think what might have been. 

J. M. Edmonds. 
By permission, The London Times. 

THREE HILLS 

There is a hill in England, 

Green fields and a school I know. 

Where the balls fly fast in summer. 
And the whispering elm trees grow — 

A little hill, a dear hill. 

And the playing fields below. 

There is a hill in Flanders, 
Heaped with a thousand slain. 

Where the shells fly night and noontide 
And the ghosts that died in vain — 

A little hill, a hard hill. 

To the souls that died in pain. 
(183) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

There is a hill in Jewry — 

Three crosses pierce the sky; 

On the midmost He is dying 
To save all those who die, 

A little hill, a kind hill- 
To the souls in jeopardy. 

EvERARD Owen. 
The London Times. 

THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE 

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note. 
As his corse to the rampart we hurried: 

Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
O'er the grave where our hero we buried. 

We buried himi darkly at dead of night. 
The sod with our bayonets turning, 

By the struggling moonbeamis' misty light, 
And the lantern dimly burning. 

No useless coffin inclosed his breast. 

Nor in sheet nor in shroud! we wound him ; 

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest. 
With his martial cloak around! him ! 

Few and short were the prayers we said. 
And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; 

But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead. 
And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 

We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed. 

And smoothed do^v^l his lonely pillow, 
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his 
head. 
And we far away on the billow ! 
■ (184) 



DYING FOR ONE'S COUNTRY 

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, 
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; 

But little he'll reck if they let him sleep on 
In the grave where a Briton has laid him. 

But half of our heavy task was done, 

When the clock struck the hour for retiring ; 

And we heard the distant and random gun 
That the foe was sullenly firing. 

Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 

From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; 

We carved not a line, we raised not a stone — 
But we left himi alone with his glory. 

Charles Wolfe. 



THE GENERAL'S DEATH 

The General dashed along the road 

Amid the pelting rain; 
How joyously his bold face glowed 

To hear our cheers' refrain ! 

His blue blouse flapped in wind and wet, 
His boots were splashed with mire. 

But round his lips a smile was set, 
And in his eyes a fire. 

A laughing word, a gesture kind, — 

We did not ask for more. 
With thirty weary miles behind, 

A weary fight before. 
(185) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

The gun grew light to every man, 
The crossed belts ceased their stress, 

As onward to tlie column*s van 
We watched our leader press. 

Within an hour we saw him lie, 

A bullet in his brain. 
His manly face turned to the sky, 

And beaten by the rain. 

Joseph O'Connor. 
By 'permission, O'Connor, Poebis, O. P. Putnam's Sons. 

KANAWHA MEN 

(August. 1918) 

The blue hills of Kanawha, 

They stand in bold array 
Above the little river 

That carries me away; — 
And there are troop-trains passing out 

Across the hills — to-day. 

The men of old Kanawha, 

How gayly have they trod 
The slopes of those dun hillsides, — 

To them a sacred sod ! 
And now they fight in far-off France 

For liberty and Grod. 

Dabney, Francis, Forrest! . . . 

Their ways were ours awhile; 
And then they manned the trenches 

For many a weary mile ; 
And facedi the final reckoning, 

Unshrinking, with a smile. 
(186) 



DYING FOR ONE'S COUNTRY 

O, Blue Hills of Kanawha ! 

I almost think you yearn 
To hold within your bosom 

The thrice beloved urn 
Of dust, of those Kanawha men, 

Who never will return. 

Garnett Laidlaw Eskew. 
By permission of the Author. 

BLESS GOD, HE WENT AS SOLDIERS 
Bless God, he went as soldiers, 

His musket on his breast ; 
Grant, God, he charge the bravest 

Of all the martial blest. 

Please God, might I behold him 

In epauletted white ; 
I should not fear the foe then, 

I should not fear the fight. 

Emily Dickinson. 
By permission, Dickinson, Poems, copyright Little, Brown ^ Co. 

TWO VIEWS OF WAR 

Stirring drums in a sunny street, 
A bonnie flag in an azure sky, 

A luring melody, tramping feet. 
And hope in many an eye. 

Death in a still and shadowed room, 

A pallid boyish face at rest, 
A sunbeam quivering in the gloom. 

And woe in a woman's breast. 

Henry Robinson Palmer. 
By permission, Brown University Magazine. 

(187) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

THEY WHO WAIT 

Oh, the gold hills of Ireland 

The gorse blossoms on 
Are all gray with heart-break 

Since Michael is gone. 

The blue hills of Scotland 
Where heather blows gay 

Are weary witli crying, 
For Colin's away ; 

And who sees, in England, 

The daffodils dance? 
♦ *»**« 

Oh, laddie — oh, laddie. 
Those red fields of France! 

Charles Buxton Going. 

By permission, Scribneu's Maoazink. 

THE BRAVE AT HOME 

The maid who binds her warrior's sash 

With smile that well her pain dissembles, 
The while beneath her drooping lash 

One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles, 
Though Heaven alone records the tear. 

And Fame shall never know her story. 
Her heart has shed a drop as dear 

As e'er bedewed the field of glory ! 

The wife who girds her husband's sword, 
'Mid little ones who weep or wonder. 

And bravely speaks the cheering word, 
What though her heart be rent asunder, 
(188) 



DYING FOR ONE'S COUNTRY 

Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear 
The bolts of death around him rattle, 

Hath shed as sacred blood as e'er 

Was poured upon the field of battle! 

The mother who conceals her grief 

While to her breast her son she presses, 
Then breathes a few brave words and brief, 

Kissing the patriot brow she blesses, 
With no one but her secret God 

To know the pain that weighs upon her, 
Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod 

Received on Freedom's field of honor ! 

Thomas Buchanan Read. 
By permission, Read, Poems, /. B. Lippincott Company. 



THE PRINCESS (Selection) 

****** 

Home they brought her warrior dead; 

She nor swoon'd, nor utter'd cry : 
All her maidens, wiatching, said, 

" She must weep or she will die." 

Then they praised him, soft and low, 
Call'd him worthy to be loved. 

Truest friend and noblest foe ; 
Yet she neither spoke nor moved. 

Stole a maiden from her place, 
Lightly to the warrior stept. 

Took the face-cloth from the face; 
Yet she neither moved nor wept. 
(189) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Rose a nurse of ninety years, 
Set his child upon her knee — 

Like summer tempest came her tears- 
" Sweet my child, I live for thee." 



Tennyson. 



MOURNING 



Shall I wear mourning for my soldier dead, 

I — a believer? Give me red. 

Or give me royal purple for the King 

At whose high court miy love is visiting. 

Dress me in green for growth, for life made new; 

For skies his dear feet march, dress me in blue ; 

In white for his white soul — robe me in gold 

For all the pride that his new rank shall hold. 

In earth's dim gardens blooms no hue too bright 

To dress me for my love who walks in light ! 

Gerteude Knevels. 
By permission, The Ouiixjok. 



(190) 



NATIONAL HYMNS AND 

WAR SONGS 



NATIONAL SONGS 

When a city's morale the ancients would raise 
The yjoets it was they first suniinonod for aid ; 

And if I for a people their ballads could phrase 
The laws of that nation I'd care not who made. 

Fletcher of tialtoun to the Karl of Montrono, 170S; paraphrased 
by L. JJ. Everett. 



NATIONAL HYMNS AND WAR SONGS 



WHEN JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME 

When Johnny comes home again, Hurrah, hurrah ! 

We'll give him a hearty welcome then, Hurrah, hurrah ! 

The men will cheer, the boys will shout. 

The ladies they will all turn out, 

And we'll all feel gay. 

When Johnny comes marching home. 

The old church bell will peal with joy. Hurrah, hurrah ! 

To welcome home our darling boy, Hurrah, hurrah ! 

The village lads and lassies say 

With roses they will strew the way, 

And we'll all feel gay. 

When Johnny comes marching home. 

Get ready for the Jubilee, Hurrah, hurrah ! 

We'll give the hero three times three ; Hurrah, hurrah ! 

The laurel wreath is ready now 

To place upon his loyal brow ; 

And we'll all feel gay 

When Johnny comes marching home. 

Louis Lambert. 



13 (183) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

AMERICA 

My country, 'tis of thee, 
Sweet land of liberty, 

Of thee I sing: 
Land where my fathers died. 
Land of the Pilgrims' pride, 
From every mountain-side 

Let freedom ring. 

My native country, thee, 
liand of the noble free, — 

Thy name I love ; 
I love thy rocks and rills, 
Tiiy woods and templed hills ; 
My heart with rapture thrills 

Like that above. 

Let music swell the breeze. 
And ring from all the trees 

Sweet freedom's song; 
Let mortal tongues awake. 
Let all that breathe partake. 
Let rocks their silence break. 

The sound prolong. 

i 
Our fathers' God, to thee, 

Author of liberty, 



To thee I sing; 



Long may our land be bright 
With freedom's holy ligiit; 
Protect us by Thy might. 
Great God our King. 

Samuel Francis Smith. 
(194) 



NATIONAL HYMNS AND WAR SONGS 



THE RED, WHITE AND BLUE 

O Columbia, the gem of the ocean. 
The home of the brave and the free, 
The shrine of each patriot's devotion, 
A world offers homage to thee ! 
Thy mandates make heroes assemble. 
When Liberty's form stands in view; 
Thy banners make tyranny tremble. 
When borne by the red, white and blue. 

When war wing'd its wide desolation, 
And threaten'd the land to deform, 
The ark then of freedom's foundation, 
Columbia, rode safe thro' the storm: 
With the garland of vict'ry around her. 
When so proudly she bore her brave crew. 
With her flag proudly floating before her, 
The boast of the red, white and blue. 

The star-spangled banner bring hither, 

O'er Columbia's true sons let it wave ; 

May the wreaths they have won never wither, 

Nor its stars cease to shine on the brave. 

May the service united ne'er sever, 

But hold to their colors so true ; 

The army and navy forever ! 

Three cheers for the red, white and blue ! 

D. T. Shaw. 



(195) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

HAIL COLUMBIA 

Hail Columbia ! happy land ! 
Hail, yc heroes ! heaven-born band ! 

Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause, 
Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause, 
And when the storm of war was gone, 
Enjoy'd the peace your valor won. 
Let independence be our boast, 
Ever mindful what it cost ; 
Ever grateful for the prize. 
Let its altar reach the skies. 
Firm — united — let us be, 
Rallying round our Liberty ; 
As a band of brothers join'd, 
Peace and safety we shall find. 

Immortal patriots ! rise once more ; 
Defend your rights, defend your shore ; 
Let no rude foe, with impious hand, 
Let no rude foe, with impious hand, 
Invade the shrine where sacred lies 
Of toil and blood the well-earn'd prize. 
While offering peace sincere and just, 
In Heaven we place a manly trust. 
That truth and justice will prevail. 
And every scheme of bondage fail. 
Firm — united^ — let us be, 
Rallying round our Liberty ; 
As a band of brothers join'd. 
Peace and safety we shall find. 

Joseph Hopkinson. 
(196) 



NATIONAL HYMNS AND WAR SONGS 



OLD IRONSIDES 

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! 

Longi has it waved on high, 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky ; 
Beneath it rung the battle shout, 

And burst the cannon's roar; — 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more ! 

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood. 

Where knelt the vanquished foe. 
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood. 

And waves were white below. 
No more shall feel the victor's tread. 

Or know the conquered knee — 
The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea! 

O better that her shattered hulk 
Should sink beneath the wave ! 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 

And there should be her grave ; 
Nail to the mast her holy flag. 

Set every threadbare sail, 
And give her to the god of storms, 
The lightning and the gale ! 

Olivee Wendell Holmes 
By p«rm%88%on of, and by special arrangement w'Uh, Houghton 
Mifflin Co., from Holmes' Poems. 



(107) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 



BATTLE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC 

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord : 
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of 

wrath are stored ; 
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift 

sword ; 

His truth is marching on. 

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling 

camps ; 
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and 

damps ; 
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring 

lamps: 

His day is marching on. 

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnish'd rows of steel : 
" As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace 

shall deal; 
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his 

heel, 

Since God is marching on." 

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call 

retreat ; 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment- 
seat: 
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my 
feet! 

Our God is marching on. 
(198) 



NATIONAL HYMNS AND WAR SONGS 

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was bom across the 

sea, 
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and 

me; 
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make them 

free, 

While God is marching on. 

Julia Ward Howe. 
By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
tin Co. 

DIXIE 

Southrons, hear your country call you ! 
Up, lest worse than death befall you ! 
To arms ! To arms ! To arms, in Dixie ! 
Lo ! all the beacon-fires are lighted, — 
Let all hearts be now united ! 

CHORUS 

To arms ! To arms ! To arms, in Dixie ! 
Advance the flag of Dixie ! 
Hurrah! hurrah! 
For Dixie's land we take our stand, 
And live or die for Dixie ! 

To arms ! To arms ! 
And conquer peace for Dixie ! 

To arms ! To arms ! 
And conquer peace for Dixie ! 

^ ^ 7^ 7^ yf: T^ 

Swear upon your country's altar 
Never to submit or falter, 
Till the spoilers are defeated. 
Till the Lord's work is completed. 

j / Albert Pike. 

(199) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 



TENTING TO-NIGHT 

We're tenting to-night on the old camp ground; 

Give us a song to cheer 

Our wearj hearts, a song of home 

And friends we love so dear. 



CHORUS 

Many are the hearts that are weary to-night, 
Wishing for tlie war to cease; 
Many are the hearts praying for the right, 
To see the dawn of peace. 

Tenting to-night, 

Tenting to-night. 

Tenting on the old camp ground. 

We're tenting to-night on the old camp ground, 
Thinking of days gone by, 

Of the loved ones at home that gave us the hand, 
And the tear that said " good-by ! " 

We're tenting to-night on the old camp ground, 
And we'll be brave and true. 
And the flag shall float o'er all the land 
By the might of boys in blue. 

Dying to-night. 
Dying to-night, 
Dying on the old camp ground. 

Walter Kittredge. 



(200) 



NATIONAL HYMNS AND WAR SONGS 

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER 

(Written in 1814) 

O ! say, can you see by the dawn's early light, 

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last 
gleaming ; 
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the per- 
ilous fight 
On the ramparts we watched were so gallantly stream- 
ing? 
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, 
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still 
there ; 
O ! say, does the star-spangled banner yet wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? 

On the shore dimly seen, through the mists of the deep. 
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes. 

What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep. 
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? 

Now it catches the gleam^ of the morning's first beam ; 

Its full glory reflected now shines on the stream, 

'Tis the star-spangled banner ! O long may it wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ! 

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore, 
'Mid the havoc of war and the battle's confusion, 

A home and a country they'd leave us no more? 

Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollu- 
tion; 

No refuge can save the hireling and slave 

From the terror of death and the gloom of the grave. 
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ! 
(201) 



vi';i{Si<: von i^athio'i^s 

() thus !)(> it cvor when frt'cmcn shall staiul 

lJctw(>('H their loved hoiries iind tiie war's desolation; 
Blest with viet'i-y and peaee, may the luaven-reseiied 
land 
Praise the ])ovver that has made and preserved us a 
nation. 
'JMien eonciuer we nuist, for our cause it is just, 
And this be our motto: " In (Jod is our trust," 

An<l the star-spangled hatuier in triumph shall wave 
O'er the land of the free and the honu' of the brave. 

Francis Scott Key. 



TIIE BLUEBEIJ.S OF SCOTI.AND 

Oh! where, tell \\\c where is your Highland laddie gone? 
Oh! where, tell me where is your Highland laddie gone? 
He's gone with streaming banners wlu're noble deeds 

are done, 
And it's oh, in my heart I wish him safe at home. 

Oh ! where, tell me where (hd your Ilighhuid laddie dwell? 
Oh ! where, tell me where did your Highland laddie dwell? 
Hedwi'lt in boiuiie Seot land, where blooms Ijie sweet blue- 
bell, 
And it's oh, in my heart I lo'e my laddlic well. 

Oh! what, tell me what if your Highland lad be slain? 
Oh! what, tell me what if your Highland lad be slain? 
Oh, no! true love will be his guard and bring him: safe 

again. 
For it's oh, my luvirt would break if my Highland lad 

were slain. 

Mrs. James Grant. 

(•202) 



NATIONAL HYMNS AND WAR SONGS 

THE MA1»I.E LEAF EOllEVEll 

(Canadian Ilynin) 
In days of yore, from IJrituin's sliore, 
Wolfe, the (Juuntlcss liero, cunie, 
And planted /inn JJritannia's Ha^' 
On Canada's fair domain. 
Hero may it wave, our hoast and pride, 
And joined in love together, 
The Thistle, Shan»rock, Rose entwine 
The Maple Leaf forever! 

CilOIMJS 

"i'lie Maf)]e Leaf, our ombh^ni dear. 
The Maple Leaf forever! 
God save our King, and Heaven bless 
'J'he Ma])le Leaf forever! 

At Queenston Heights and Lundy's Lane, 

Our Inave fathers, sid(^ |>y side, 

For freedom, homes, and loved ones dear. 

Firmly stood and nobly died; 

And those dear rights whirh they maintained, 

We swear to yield them> never ! 

Our watchword evermore shall be. 

The Maple Leaf forever! 

Our fair Donn'rn'on now extends 
From (Jai)e Race lo Nootka Sound; 
May peace forever be our lot. 
And plenteous store abound; 
And may those ties of love be ours 
Which discord can not sever, 
And flourish green o'er J''reedoni's home. 
The Ma£)le Leaf forever! 

(2o:{) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

On Merry England's far-famed land 

May kind Heaven sweetly smile; 

God bless Old Scotland ever more, 

And Ireland's Emerald Isle ! 

Then swell the song, both loud and long, 

Till rocks and forest quiver, 

God save our King, and Heaven bless 

The Maple Leaf forever ! 

Alexander Muie. 



AUSTRALIANS TO THE FRONT 
(captain cook hears the drums) 

From the Scheldt to the Niemen, 

Hark, the music of the drums ! 
Not unthrilled the souls of freemen 

When that instant message comes. 
Rolling east the wild fantasia 

Stirs the Orient blood to flame ; 
And the drums call Austral-asia 

And she answers to her name. 

Far away from hosts in battle, 

Yet in time with marching feet. 
Here and now the war-drums rattle 

In the sun-bright city street. 
Horse and foot in martial manner, 

Swift commands, and glances high, 
Naked steel and silken banner ; 

Thus the ranks go proudly by. 
(204) 



NATIONAL HYMNS AND WAR SONGS 

But within the gardens spacious, 

Not a stone's throw fromi the crowd, 
One who fronts the landscape gracious 

Listens to the war-drums loud- 
Beats the eager drummer harder. 

And methinks the bronze can hear. 
In those eyes a flash of ardor ! 

On that cheek a noble tear ! 

Dauntless Captain, did'st thou ever. 

With thy sailor-eyes of gray 
Searching out from thy endeavor 

That sequestered flower-starred bay. 
Dream that some day those who love thee 

Here would stake their all of worth 
For the flag that waved above thee 

And the land that gave thee birth? 

And the dauntless Captain listens: 

Ah, if only he could speak! 
But a vagrant raindrop glistens 

On that scorched and blistered cheek. 
And the faith that does not falter 

Still may hear his whisper low: 
" Son, this new land doth not alter 

Britain's breed of long ago." 

John Sandes. 
Stdney Daily Telegraph, Australia. 



(205) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 



RULE, BRITANNIA 

Wlicn Britain first, at Heaven's command, 

Arose from out the azure main. 
This was the charter of the land. 

And guardian angels sang this strain : 
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves ; 
Britons never will be slaves. 

The nations, not so blest as thee, 

Must in their turns to tyrants fall; 
While thou shalt flourish, great and free, 
The dread and envy of them all : 
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves ; 
Britons never will be slaves. 

Still more majestic shalt thou rise, 

INIore dreadful from each foreign stroke: 

As the loud blast that tears the skies 
Serves but to root thy native oak : 
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; 

Britons never will be slaves. 

****** 

The Muses, still with Freedom found. 

Shall to thy happy coast repair; 
Blest isle ! with matchless beauty crown'd, 
And manly hearts to guard the fair; 
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; 
Britons never will be slaves. 

James Thomson. 

(206) 



NATIONAL HYMNS AND WAR SONGS 



GOD SAVE THE KING 

God save our gracious king! 
Long live our noble kine-! 

God save the king! 
Send him victorious, 
Happy and glorious, 
Long to reign over us — 

God save the king! 

Lord our God, arise I 
Scatter his enemies. 

And make them fall. 
Confound their politics. 
Frustrate their knavish tricks ; 
On him our hopes we fix — 

God save us all ! 

Thy choicest gifts in store 
On him be pleased to pour ; 

Long may he reign. 
May he defend our laws, 
And ever give us cause 
To sing with heart and voice — 

God save the king! 

Henry Carey (1696-1743). 



(207) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

BELGIAN NATIONAL SONG 

(La Braban(Jonne) 

Who'd have believed such self-willed daring, 

That his base ends he might attain ; 

Avid for blood, a prince unsparing, 

Bullets on us should rain ! 

Let it end ; 

Belgians, be free men, 

From Nassau brook no more indignity ; 

Since grape has torn down the Orange flying 

Upon the tree of Liberty. 

Brabanters proud, with hearts courageous. 
Who in battle are e'er so brave ; 
You from Batavia's yoke outrageous 
Ball and powder shall save. 
At the feet of the Archangel 
O'er Brussels then shall your flag float free 
And proudly flourish without the Orange, 
Upon the tree of Liberty ! 

And you for whom proud tears are flowing, 

'Neath the fierce cannon's fire who fell. 

Dead, for a nation all unknowing 

Names it should know so well ; 

'Neath the sod, where we have laid you. 

There sleep, ye martyrs, who fought dauntlessly, 

In peace there rest, far from the Orange, 

Beneath the tree of Liberty! 

Translated by Frederick H. Martens. 

(208) 



NATIONAL HYMNS AND WAR SONGS 

THE MARSEILLAISE 

Ye sons of Freedom, wake to glory ! 

Hark ! hark ! what myriads bid you rise ! 
Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary, 

Behold their tears and hear their cries ! 
Shall hateful tyrants, mischiefs breeding, 

With hireling hosts, a ruffian band, 

Affright and desolate the land. 
While peace and liberty lie bleeding? 

To arms ! to arms ! ye brave ! 

The avenging sword unsheathe. 
March on ! march on ! all hearts resolved 

On victory or death ! 

Now, now the dangerous storm is rolling, 

Which treacherous kings confederate raise ; 
The dogs of war, let loose, are howling, 

And lo ! our fields and cities blaze : 
And shall we basely view the ruin. 

While lawless force, with guilty stride, 

Spreads desoation far and wide. 
With crimes and blood his hands imbruing? 

To arms ! to arms ! ye brave ! 

The avenging sword unsheathe. , 

March on ! march on ! all hearts resolved 

On victory or death ! 

O Liberty! can man resign thee. 

Once having felt thy generous flame? 
Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee? 

Or whips thy noble spirit tame? 
Too long the world has wept, bewailing 

That falsehood's dagger tyrants wield; 

But freedom is our sword and shield, 
14 (209) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

And all their arts are unavailing. 

To arms ! to arms ! ye brave ! 

The avenging sword unsheathe. 
March on ! march on ! all hearts resolved 

On victory or death ! 

RouGET DE Lisle. 

THE GARIBALDI HYMN 

(Italy) 
Comie arm ye ! Come arm ye ! 

From vineyards of olives, from, grape-mantled bowers, 
Where landscapes are laughing in mazes of flowers ; 
From mountains, all lighted by sapphire and amber, 
From cities of marble, from temples and marts. 
Arise ! all ye valiants ! Your manhood proclaiming. 
Whilst thunders are meeting, and sabres are flaming, 
For honour, for glory, the bugles are sounding, 
To quicken your pulses and gladden your hearts. 
Then hurl our fierce f oeman far from us forever ; 
The day is dawning, which shall be our own ! 

Too long cruel tyrants have trampled us under, 

The chains they have forged us are riven asunder; 

The Scions of Italy rise in defiance, 

Her flag nobly flutters where breezes are kind. 

To landward and seaward, the Foe shall be broken. 

Where Heroes have gathered, where Martyrs have 

spoken, 
And Italy's throne shall be rooted in Freedom, 
Whilst Monarch and people are all of one mind : 
Then hurl our fierce foemen far from us forever. 
The day is dawning which shall be our own ! 

LuiGi Mercantini. 
{Translated by Florence G. Attenborough.) 

(210) 



NATIONAL HYMNS AND WAR SONGS 

SERBIAN NATIONAL SONG 

Rise, O Serbians, swift arise! 
Lift your banners to the skies, 
For your country needs her children, 
Fight to make her free. 
Rise, O rise, and crush our enemy ! 
Rise and fight for liberty ! 

Free the Sav and Duna flow ; 

Let us, too, unfetter'd go ; 

O'er the wild Moravian mountains, 

Swift shall flow sweet Freedom's fountains, 

Down shall sink the foe. 

Rise, O rise, and crush our enemy ! 

Rise, and fight for liberty! 

(Translated by H. F. B.) 

RUSSIAN HYMN 

God the All-merciful! earth hath forsaken 
Thy ways of blessedness, slighted Thy word; 
Bid not Thy wrath in its terrors awaken ; 
Give to us peace in our time, O Lord. 

God the All-wise ! by the fire of Thy chastening, 
Earth shall to freedom and truth be restored ; 
Through the thick darkness Thy kingdom is hastening. 
Thou wilt give peace in Thy time, O Lord. 

So will Thy people, with thankful devotion. 
Praise Him who saved them from peril and sword. 
Shouting in chorus, from ocean to ocean, 
Peace to the nations, and praise to the Lord. 

H. F. Chorley. 

(211) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

ROUMANIAN NATIONAL SONG 

Long live our King in peace, 

Long shall his pow'r increase, 

Long may he rule o'er us, 

Loudly we sing in chorus. 

Ruler grand, 

Our glorious land 

Prays for success for thee; 

Evermore, 

In peace or war. 

Great King, triumphant be. 

Oh, Holy Lord, Heavenly Father, 

Uphold with Thy might the people, 

King and land of Roumania. 

V. Alexandri. 



POLISH HYMN 

Brothers, Poland is in need, 
To your standard rally ; 
Faithful be in word and deed, 
God shall be our ally. 

REFRAIN 

And a hero meritorious. 
Will our guide and captain be ; 
He will render us victorious, 
He will grant us liberty. 

Our oppressor's wrath to brave. 
We will fight or perish : 
From his cruel grasp to save 
The dear land we cherish. 
(212) 



NATIONAL HYMNS AND WAR SONGS 

MY HOMELAND 

(National Hymn of Bohemia) 

O Homeland mine ! O Homeland mine ! 
Streams are rushing through thy meadows ; 
'Mid thy rocks sigh fragrant pine groves, 
Orchards 'decked in Spring's array, 
Scenes of Paradise portray. 
And this land of wondrous beauty 
Is the Cech land. Homeland mine, 
Is the Cech land. Homeland mine. 

O Homeland mine ! O Homeland mine ! 
In thy realms dwell, dear to God's heart. 
Gentle souls in bodies stalwart. 
Clear of mind, they win success ; 
Courage show when foes oppress: 
Such the Cechs, in whom I glory. 
Where the Cechs live is my home. 
Where the Cechs live is my home. 

(Trans, by V. Pisek.) 



KIMI GA YO 

(Japanese) 

May our Emp'ror's reign endure. 

Through the ages stand secure. 

Changeless last, true and fast, 

Till the countless years have passed. 

May his praise glorious be through endless days ! 



(213) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 



There is a land, of every land the pride, 
Beloved by heaven o'er all the world beside; 

Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found? 
Art thou a man? a patriot? look around; 
Oh ! thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, 
That land thy country, and that spot thy home. 
James Montgomery {Love of Country and of Home). 



(216) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

HOME, SWEET HOME 
'Mid pleasures and jxilaces thou/^h we may roam, 
Be it ever so humble, tliere's no place like home! 
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us tliere, 
Which, seek throuf^h the world, is ne'er met with else- 
where. 

Home, home, sweet, sweet home ! 
There's no place like home! 

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain ; 

Oh ! ^ive me my lowly thatch'd cottagie again ! 

The birds, singing f?"^yly» that came at my call — 

Give me them ! — and the peace of mind dearer than all. 

Home, home, sweet, sweet home! 
There's no place like home ! 

JoifN Howard Payne. 

OLD FOLKS AT HOME 

Way down upon de Swanee Ribber, 

Far, far away ; 
Dere's wha my heart is turning ebbcr, 

Dere's wha de old folks stay. 
All up and down de whole creation, 

Sadly I roam. 
Still longing for do old [)laTitation, 

And for de old folks at home. 

REFIIAIN 

All de world am sad and dreary, 

Ebrywhere I roam. 
Oh ! darkeys, how my heart grows weary. 

Far from de old folks at home. 
(217) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

All around de little farm I wander'd 

When I was young; 
Den many happy days I squander'd, 

Many de songs I sung. 
When I was playing wid my brudder, 

Happy was I ; 
Oh, take me to my kind old mudder, 

Dere let me live and die ! 

One little hut among de bushes, 

One dat I love, 
Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes. 

No matter where I rove. 
When will I see de bees a-humming, 

All round de comb? 
When will I hear de banjo tumming 

Down in my good old home? 

Stephen Collins Foster. 

HOME 

Falmouth is a fine town with ships in the bay, 
And I wish from my heart it's there I was to-day ; 

1 wish from my heart I was far away from here, 
Sitting in my parlour and talking to my dear. 

For it's home, dearie, home — it's home I want to be. 
Our topsails are hoisted, and we'll away to sea. 
O the oak and the ash and the bonnie birken tree, 
They're all growing green in the old countree ! 

In Baltimore a-walking a lady I did meet 
With her babe on her arm as she came dov^ii the street ; 
And I thought how I sailed, and the cradle standing 
ready 

For the pretty little babe that has never seen its daddie. 

(218) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

O, if it be a lass, she shall wear a golden ring ; 
And if it be a lad, he shall fight for his king ; 
With his dirk and his hat and his little jacket blue 
He shall walk the quarter-deck as his daddie used to do. 

O, there's a wind a-blowing, a-blowing from the west, 
And that of all the winds is the one I like the best ; 
For it blows at our backs, and it shakes our pennon free, 
And it soon will blow us home to the old countree. 

For it's home, dearie, home — it's home I want to be. 

Our topsails are hoisted, and we'll away to sea. 

O the oak and the ash and the bonnie birken tree. 

They're all growing green in the old countree. 

William Ernest Henley. 
Poems, David Nutt, London. 



THE RETURN 

Though I get home how late, how late! 
So I get home, 'twill compensate. 
Better will be the ecstasy 
That they have done expecting me, 
When, night descending, dumb and dark. 
They hear my unexpected knock. 
Transporting must the moment be, 
Brewed from decades of agony ! 

To think just how the fire will burn. 

Just how long-cheated eyes will turn 

To wonder what myself will say, 

And what itself will say to me. 

Beguiles the centuries of way ! 

Emily Dickinson. 
By permission, Dickinson, Poems, Little, Brown ^ Co, 

(219) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

HOMESICK * 

my garden ! lying whitely in the moonlight and the 

dew, 
Far across the leagues of distance flies my heart to-night 

to you, 
And I see your stately lilies in the tender radiance gleam, 
With a dim, mysterious splendor, like the angels of a 

dream. 

1 can see the stealthy shadows creep along the ivied wall, 
And the bosky depths of verdure, where the drooping 

vine leaves fall. 
And the tall trees standing darkly with their crowns 

against the sky. 
While overhead the harvest moon goes slowly sailing by. 

I can see the trcllised arbor, and the roses' crimson glow, 
Antl the lances of the larkspurs, all glittering, row on 

row. 
And the wilderness of hollyhocks, where brown bees seek 

their spoil. 
And butterflies dance all day long in glad and gay 

turmoil. 

O, the broad paths running straightly, north and south, 

and east and west ! 
O, the wild grape climbing sturdily to reach the oriole's 

nest ! 
O, the bank where wild flowers blossom, ferns nod, and 

mosses creep. 
In a tangled maze of beauty over all the wooded steep. 

* Prom Beyond the Sunset, copyright, 1909, by Charles Scribner'g 
tions. By permission of the publishers. 
(220) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

Just beyond the moonlit garden, I can see the orchard 

trees, 
With their dark boughs overladen, stirring softly in the 

breeze, 
And the shadows on the greensward, and within the 

pasture bars, 
The white sheep huddled quietly beneath the pallid stars. 

O my garden ! lying whitely in the moonlight and the i 

dew. 
Far across the restless ocean flies my yearning heart 

to you. 
And I turn from storied castle, hoary fane, and ruined 

shrine. 
To the dear, familiar pleasaunce where my own white 

lilies shine. 

With a vague, half-startled wonder, if some night in 

Paradise, 
From the battlements of heaven, I shall turn my longing 

eyes. 
All the dim, resplendent spaces, and the mazy star-drifts 

through, 
To my garden, lying whitely in the moonlight and the 

dew! 

Julia C. R. Dorr. 

THE WAVES OF BREFFNY 

The grand road from the mountain goes shining to the 
sea, 
And there is traffic on it and many a horse and cart ; 
But the little sands of Cloonagh are dearer far to me. 
And the little roads of Cloonagh go rambling through 
my heart. 

(221) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

A great storm from the ocean goes shouting o'er the hill, 
And there is glory in it, and terror on the wind; 

But the haunted air of twilight is very strange and still, 
And the little winds of twilight are dearer to my mind. 

The great waves of the Atlantic sweep storming on their 
way, 
Shining green and silver with the hidden herring shoal ; 
But the little waves of Breffny have drenched my heart 
in spray. 
And the little waves of Breffny go stumbling through 
my soul. 

Eva Gore-Booth. 
By permission, Gore-Booth, The Perilous Light, Erskine Mac- 
Donald, London. 



TARRAS WATER 

From the top of Hartsgarth Fell 
Runs the Tarras Burn — 
Tinkling fall and golden pool — 
Through the heather and the fern. 
Calling, calling, clear and cool, 
Tarras Water calling, 
Tarras Water falling, 
Tarras Water calling, calling — 
Tarras Water, Tarras Water ! 

Through my heart the livelong night 
Runs the Tarras Bum, 
Golden pool and tinkling fall ; 
In the land of No Return 
Still I hear that golden call, 
(222) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

Tarras Water calling, 

Tarras Water falling, 

Tarras Water calling, calling, 

Tarras Water, Tarras Water ! 

Wilfred Wilson Gibson. 
By permission, Qibson, Collected Poems, Macmillan Co. 



HOME THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD 

Oh, to be in England now that April's there! 
And whoever wakes in England sees, some morning, un- 
aware. 
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf 
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, 
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough 
In England — now! 

And after April, when May follows. 
And the white-throat builds, and all the swallows ! 
Hark ! where by blossomed pear tree in the hedge 
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover 
Blossoms and dewdrops — at the bent spray's edge — 
That's the wise thrush ; he sings each song twice over 
Lest you should think he never could recapture 
The first fine careless rapture ! 

And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, 
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew 
The buttercups, the little children's dower — 
Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower! 

Robert Browning. 



(223) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

THE SONG OF THE CAMP 

" Give us a song ! " the soldiers cried, 
The outer trenches guarding, 

When the heated guns of the camps allied 
Grew weary of bombarding. 



There was a pause. A guardsman said: 
" We storm the forts to-morrow ; 

Sing while we may, another day 
Will bring enough of sorrow." 

They lay along the battery's side, 

Below the smoking cannon : 
Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde, 

And from the banks of Shannon. 

They sang of love, and not of fame; 

Forgot was Britain's glory : 
Each heart recall'd a different name, 

But all sang " Annie Laurie." 

Voice after voice caught up the song. 

Until its tender passion 
Rose like an anthem, rich and strong — 

Their battle-eve confession. 

Dear girl, her name he dared not speak, 

But as the song grew louder. 
Something upon the soldier's cheek 

Washed off the stains of powder. 

*« » W « 4» « 

(224) 




SIR GALAHAD 

My strength is as the strength of ten, 
Because my heart is pure. 

— Tennyson, 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

And Irish Nora's eyes are dim 

For a singier dumb and gory ; 
And English Mary mourns for him 

Who sang of " Annie Laurie." 

Sleep, soldiers ! still in honor'd rest 

Your truth and valor wearing : 
The bravest are the tenderest — 

The loving are the daring. 

Bayard Taylor. 

permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co., from Taylor's Poetical Works. 

IT'S A FAR, FAR CRY 

It's a far, far cry to my own land, 

A hundred leagues or more ; 
To moorlands where the fairies flit 

In Rosses and Gweedore — 
Where white-maned waves come prancing up 

To Dooran's rugged shore. 

There's a cabin there by a holy well, 

Once blessed by Columbcille, 
And a holly bush and a fairy fort 

On the slope of Glenties Hill, 
Where the dancing feet of many winds 

Go roving at their will. 

My heart is sick of the level lands. 

Where the wingless windmills be. 
Where the long-nosed guns from dusk to dawn 

Are speaking angrily ; 
But the little home by Glenties Hill, 

Ah ! that's the place for me. 
15 (225) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

A candle stuck on the muddy floor 

Lights up the dug-out wall, 
And I see in its flame the prancing sea, 
And the mountains straight and tall ; 
For my heart is more than often back 
By the hills of Donegal. 

Patrick MacGill. 
By permission, MacOill, Soldier Songs, E. P. Dutton ^- Co. 

KILLARNEY 

By Killarney's lakes and fells, 
Em'rald isles and winding bays. 
Mountain paths and woodland dells, 
Mem'ry ever fondly strays. 
Bounteous nature loves all lands, 
Beauty wanders everywhere. 
Foot-prints leaves on many strands. 
But her home is surely there! 
Angels fold their wings and rest, 
In that Eden of the West, 
Beauty's home, Killarney, 
Ever fair Killarney. 

Innisfallen's ruined shrine 

May suggest a passing sigh ; 

But man's faith can ne'er decline 

Such God's wonders floating by ; 

Castle Lough and Glenabay, 

Mountains Tore and Eagle's Nest; 

Still at Mucross you must pray 

Tho' the monks are now at rest. 

Angels wonder not that man 

There would fain prolong life's span, 
(226) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

Beauty's home, Killarney, 
Ever fair Killarney. 

No place else can charm the eye 
With such bright and varied tints ; 
Ev'ry rock that you pass by, 
Verdure broiders or besprints. 
Virgin there the green grass grows, 
Ev'ry morn spring's natal day ; 
Bright-hued berries dafF the snows, 
Smiling winter's frown away. 
Angels often pausing there. 
Doubt if Eden were more fair, 
Beauty's home, Killarney, 
Ever fair Killarney. 

M. W. Balfe. 

THE SUN RISES BRIGHT IN FRANCE 

The sun rises bright in France, 

And fair sets he ; 
But he has tint the blythe blink he had 

In my ain countree. 

MH 1^ ^ * Hk * 

My lanely hearth burn'd bonnie. 

An' smiled my ain Marie ; 
I've left a' my heart behin' 

In my ain countree. 

The bud comes back to summer, 

And the blossom to the bee. 
But I'll win back — oh never 

To my ain countree. 
(227) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Oh, I am leal to high Heaven, 

Where soon I hope to be, 
An' there I'll meet you a' soon 

Frae my ain countree! 

Allan Cunningham. 



" IT'S HAME, AND IT'S HAME " 

It's hame, and it's hame, hame fain wad I be, 
An' it's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie ! 
When the flower is i' the bud, and the leaf is on the tree, 
The lark shall sing me hame in my ain countrie. 

REFRAIN 

It's hame, and it's hame, hame fain wad I be, 
And it's hame, hame, hame, to' my ain countrie ! 

The green leaf o' loyalty's beginning for to fa' ; 
The bonny white rose it is withering an' a': 
But I'll water't wi' the blude of usurping tyrannic, 
An' green it will grow in my ain countrie. 

The great now are gane, a' wha ventured to save, — 
The new grass is springing on the tap o' their grave; 
But the sun through the mirk blinks blithe in my ee — 
" I'll shine on ye yet in yer ain countrie." 

EEFRAIN 

It's hame, and it's hame, hame fain wad I be, 
An' it's hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie. 

Allan Cunningham. 

(228) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS 

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here ; 
My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer ; 
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe — 
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go. 
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North ! 
The birthplace of valor, the country of worth ; 
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, 
The hills of the Highlands forever I love. 

Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow ! 
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below ! 
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods ! 
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods ! 
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here, 
My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer; 
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe — 
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go. 

Robert Burns. 



APRIL IN ENGLAND 

April in England. Daffodils are growing 
By every wayside, golden, tall and fair ; 

April — and all the little winds are blowing 

The scents of springtime through the sunny air. 

April in England. God, that we were there ! 

April in England. And her sons are lying 

On these red fields and dreaming of her shore; 

April — we hear the thrushes* songs replying 
Each unto each, above the cannons' roar. 

April in England. Shall we see it more.'' 
(229) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

April in England. There's the cuckoo calling 
Down in her meadows, where the cowslip gleams, 

April — and little showers are softly falling. 
Dimpling the surface of her babbling streams. 

April in England. How the shrapnel screams ! 

April in England. Blood and dust and smother, 
Screaming of horses, men in agony ; 

April — full many of thy sons, O Mother, 
Never again those dewy dawns shall see 

April in England. God keep England free I 

NoaAH M. Holland. 

By 'permission, University Magazine, Montreal. 



HOMEWARD BOUND 

Into the west of the waters on the living ocean's foami, 
Into the west of the sunset where the young adventurers 

roam, 
Into the west of the shining star, I am sailing, sailing 

home; 
Home from the lonely cities, time's wreck, and the naked 

woe, 
Home through the clean great waters where freemen's 

pennants blow. 
Home to the land men dream of, where all the nations go ; 
'Tis home but to be on the waters, 'tis home already here. 
Through the weird red-billowing sunset into the west to 

steer. 
To fall asleep in the rocking dark with home a day more 

near. 

(230) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

By morning light the ship holds on, alive with happy 

freight, 
A thousand hearts with one still joy, and with one hope 

elate, 
To reach the land that mothered them and sweetly guides 

their fate ; 
Whether the purple furrow heaps the bows with dazzling 

spray. 
Or buried in green-based masses they dip the stonn- 

swept day. 
Or the white fog ribbons o'er them, the strong ship holds 

her way ; 
And when another day is done, by the star of love we 

steer 
To the land of all that we love best and all that we hold 

dear; 
We are sailing westward, homeward; our western home 

is near. 

George Edward Woodberry. 
By permission, Woodberry, Poems, Macmillan Co. 



DEARE COUNTREY 

* * * Deare countrey ! O ! how dearely deare 
Ought thy remembraunce and perpetuall band 
Be to thy foster Childe, that from thy hand 
Did commun breath and nouriture receave. 
How brutish is it not to understand 
How much to her we owe, that all us gave ; 
That gave unto us all what ever good we have. 
Edmund Spencer, 1552-1599. (The Faerie Queene.) 

(231) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

WILLIAM TELL AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 

Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again ! 

I hold to you the hands you first beheld, 

To show they still are free. Methinks I hear 

A spirit in your echoes answer me. 

And bid your tenant welcome to his home 

Again ! Oh ! sacred forms, how proud you look ! 

How high you lift your heads into the sky ! 

How huge you are ! how mighty, and how free ! 

Ye are the things that tower, that shine — whose smile 

Makes glad, whose frown is terrible; whose forms, 

Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear 

Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, 

I'm with you once again ! — I call to you 

With all my voice ! — I hold my hands to you, 

To show they still are free. I rush to you 

As though I could embrace you ! 

* * * Scaling yonder peak, 

I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow 

O'er the abyss — his broad-expanded wings 

Lay calm and motionless upon the air. 

As if he floated there without their aid. 

By the sole act of his unlorded will. 

That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively 

I bent my bow ; yet kept he rounding still 

His airy circle, as in the delight 

Of measuring the ample range beneath 

And round about ; absorbed, he heeded not 

The death that threatened him. I could not shoot ! — 

'Twas liberty ! — I turned my bow aside, 

And let him soar away ! 

James Sheridan Knowles. (William Tell.) 
(232) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

BELGIUM 
(1914) 
A cloud and smoke by day, and the shiningi of a 
flaming fire by night. — Isa. iv, 5. 

A-smoke thy thousands of homes, 
Pall-hidden thy cities are they; 
But ever thou'lt be, O brave little land, 
A pillar of cloud by day ! 

The pyre of a million lives — 

Right sered by a scorching Might — 
But still untouched thy soul of flame, 

Forever, a fire by night! ^ ^ Eveeett. 
By permission, Everett, Lyrics Nine, Greenwood Co. 

TO BELGIUM 

For Right not Might you fought. The foe, 
Checked in his wild World overthrow, 
Ravaged, with his remorseless band. 
Your ancient fanes and peaceful land, 
Thinking to crush you at a blow! 

You are not crushed — as well we know. 
If you are trodden, 'tis to grow; 

Nor shall they fail at last who stand 
For Right, not Might. 

GOD speed you, Belgium ! Time will show 

How large a debt to You we owe ; 

To You, through all reverses grand, 
Men stretch to-day a grateful hand : 

GOD speed you still — in weal and woe — 

For Right, not Might! ^ ^ 

Austin Dobson. 

By permission. King Albert's Book^ Hearst's International 

Library Co. ^233^ 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

ON THE ITALIAN FRONT, MCMXVI 

" I will die cheering, if I needs must die ; 

So shall my last breath write upon my lips 

Viva Italia! when my spirit slips 
Down the great darkness from the mountain sky; 
And those who shall behold me where I lie 

Shall murmur : ' Look, you ! how his spirit dips 

From glory into glory ! the eclipse 
Of death is vanquished ! Lo ! his victor-cry ! ' 

" Live thou, upon my lips, Italia mine, 

The sacred death-cry of my frozen clay ! 
Let thy dear light from my dead body shine 

And to the passerby thy message say: 
* Ecco! though heaven has made my skies divine, 
My sons' love sanctifies my soil for aye ! ' " 

George Edward Woodberry. 
By permission of the Author. 



ITALIA, 10 TI SALUTO! 

To come back from the sweet South, to the North 
Where I was born, bred, look to die ; 

Come back to do my day's work in its day, 
Play out my play — 
Amen ! amen ! say I. 

To see no more the country half my own, 
Nor hear the half familiar speech, 

Amen ! I say ; I turn to that bleak North 
Whence I came forth — 
The South lies out of reach. 
(234) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

But when our swallows fly back to the South, 
To the sweet South, to the sweet South, 

The tears may come again into my eyes 
On the old wise. 
And the sweet name to my mouth. 

C. G. ROSSETTI, 
By permission, Rossetti, Poems, Little, Brotcn §• Co. 



ITALIA DOLOROSA 

We sought her for her beauty and her girace, 

For the unfading wonder of her face 

That lured us overseas from myriad lands, 

And always there was kindness in her eyes, 

And welcome in her hands. 

O Italy ! whose glory thrills us yet. 

Shall we, thy lovers, in this day forget? 



Long since her beauty drew us overseas ; 

How may we go to-day with hearts at ease. 

Keeping the little comfort we might give, 

Withholding that poor talent we might lend 

That aids her sons to live? 

O Italy ! whose heart is torn to-day. 

Shall we, thy lovers, hear — and turn away? 

Theodosia Gaerison. 
By permission of the Author, published for American Poets' 
Ambulance Fund. 



(235) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

VIVE LA FRANCE! 

The land of sunshine and of song! 

Her name your hearts divine; 
To her the banquet's vows belong 

Whose breasts have poured its wine; 
Our trusty friend, our true ally 

Through varied change and chance : 
So, fill your flashing goblets high, — 

I give you, Vive la France ! 
♦ ****♦ 

Above our hosts in triple folds 

The selfsame colors spread, 
Where Valor's faithful arm upholds 

The blue, the white, the red ; 
Alike each nation's glittering crest 

Reflects the morning's glance, — 
Twin eagles, soaring cast and west : 

Once more, then, Vive i.a France ! 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
By permijision of, and by special arranyement with, Houghton 
Mif/lin Co., from Holmes' Poems. 

VERDUN 

Verdun, city of sorrow ! 
With her war-swept, blackened spaces, 
Her crumbled, poor home-places 
Whence all her children fled ; 
With her streets that know no tread 
Save that of her worn defenders, — 
City of mournful splendors. 
Stern and lovely and tragic, — 
She shall be clothed with magic. 
(236) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

Who bears her scars upon her breast 

Happy is he! 
And as a shrine forever blest 

Her walls shall be. 

Verdun, city of thunder, 

City of flame, — 
As the sound of a host singing 

Shall be her name; 
The sound of a great host singing. 

The tread of a marching mass. 
The call of a great cry ringing — 

" They shall not pass! " 
For through the strife that tore her 
The sword of France before her 

Lay like a golden bar; 
And in the night of the nations 

She is a star. 

Marion Couthguy Smith. 
By permission, Smith, The Final Star, Jam^s T. White ^ Co. 



THE SPIRIT OF FRANCE 

What spirit animates to-day 

The soul of France? What vital spark.'' 
From out the fire that burned her clay 
At Rouen to an ash of gray. 

The living spirit of Jeanne D'Arc! 

Clinton Scollard. 
By permission, Scollard, Let the Flag Wave, James T, White ^ Co, 

(237) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

FRANCE 

Half artist and half anchorite, 

Part siren and part Socrates, 
Her face — alluring fair, yet recondite — 

Smiled through her salons and academies. 

Lightly she wore her double mask. 
Till sudden at War's kindling spark. 

Her inmost self, in shining mail and casque. 

Blazed to the world her single soul — 

Jean d'Arc! 

Percy MacKaye. 
By permission, MacKaye, The Present Hour, Macmillan Co. 

EMBATTLED FRANCE 

Across the sea that once was free now let the message 

leap 
That France has won our Western hearts, and waked our 

souls from sleep ! 
Proud land ! No more shall we mistake the shallows for 

the deep. 

They knew her not who lightly thought her frivolously 

gay- 
She who first taught our grimmer world the sanity of 

play; 
They saw the birds that fly the nest but not the brood 

that stay. 

And we who knew and loved her true and shared her 

welcome kind — 
The welcome of her heart, and more, the welcome of 

her mind — 
How could we know these newer bonds that evermore 

shall bind! — 

(238) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

That she, tlie Queen of Peace serene, who sought the 

sword no more, — 
That she, the Queen of Art, wlio keeps the key of 

Beauty's door. 
More royal than her royal lines, should be the Queen of 

War!— 

4|» 4K « # # IK 

Envoi, to the Republic 
When Peace and Toil shall guard tiiy soil, in all its 

ancient girth. 
And Freedom, by thy fortitude, has found a newer birth, 
We still shall cry, " My France, Our France, the France 
of all the Earth ! " 

Rout. UNDiiiiwooD Johnson. 
By permission of the author, from Poems op Wau and Peace. 



FRANCE 

Who loves brave life through all the tides of time 

Where valor holds review 
Craves only this — to send his humble rhyme 

Across the seas to you. 

itik * * * * 

Though Homer lived to sing your mighty heart 

Above the drumfire's roll. 
What words are there to tell in minor part 

The glory of your soul? 

«lt '* * 

Gkantland Rick. 
By permission, Sonoh oi' tiu; Stai.waiit, D. AppJelon tj* Co. 

(230) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

ENGLAND 

Daddy Neptune, one day, to Freedom did say, 

" If ever I lived upon dry land, 
The spot I should hit on would be little Britain ! " 
Says Freedom, " Why, that's my own island ! " 
O it's a snug little island ! 
A right little, tight little island ! 
Search the globe round, none can be found 
So happy as this little island. 

V 5p y^ ?p ^ TP 

Since Freedom and Neptune have hitherto kept time, 

In each saying, " This shall be my land " ; 

Should the " Army of England," or all it could bring, 

land. 
We'd show 'em some play for the Island. 
We'd fight for our right to the Island ; 
We'd give them enough of the Island; 
Invaders should just — bite once at the dust. 
But not a bit more of the Island. 

Thomas Dibdin. 



THE SONG OF THE BOW 

What of the bow ? 
The bow was made in England: 
Of true wood, of yew wood. 
The wood of English bows ; 
For men who are free 
Love the old yew-tree, 
And the land where the yew-tree grows. 
(240) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

What of the cord? 

The cord was made in England : 

A rough cord, a tough cord, 

A cord that bowmen love ; 

And so we will sing 

Of the hempen string, 

And the land where the cord was wove. 

What of the shaft? 

The shaft was cut in England: 

A long shaft, a strong shaft, 

Barbed and trim, and true; 

So we'll drink together 

To the grey goose feather. 

And the land where the grey goose flew. 

What of the mark? 

Ah ! seek it not in England : 

A bold mark, an old mark 

Is waiting over-sea; 

Where the strings harp in chorus. 

And the lion flag is o'er us. 

It is there our mark shall be. 

What of the men ? 

The men were bred in England: 

The bowmen — the yeomen. 

The lads of dell and fell. 

Here's to you — and to you, 

To the hearts that are true, 

And the land where the true hearts dwell. 

Sir A. Conan Doyle. 

16 (241) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

HANDS ALL ROUND 

First drink a health, this solemn night, 

A health to England, every guest: 
That man's the best cosmopolite 

Who loves his native country best. 
May freedom's oak forever live 

With stronger life from day to day. 
That man's the best Conservative 

Who lops the moldcred branch away. 
Hands all round! 

God the tyrant's hope confound! 
To this great cause of F'reedom drink, my friends, 
And the great name of England, round and round. 
****** 

Gigantic daughter of the West, 

We drink to thee across the flood! 
We know thee and we love thee best ; 

For art thou not of British blood? 
Should war's mad blast again be blown. 

Permit not thou the tyrant powers 
To fight thy mother here alone, 

But let thy broadsides roar with ours. 
Hands all round ! 

God the tyrant's cause confound! 
To our great kinsman of the West, my friends, 
And the great name of England, round and round. 

Oh rise, our strong Atlantic sons. 

When war against our freedom springs ! 

Oh, speak to Europe through your guns! 
They caii be understood by kings. 
(242) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

You must not mix our Qucon with those 

That wish to kcej) their people fools: 
Our freedom's foenien are her foes; 
She comprehends the race she rules: 

Hands all rouiul ! 
God the tyrant's cause confound! 
To our frreat kinsmen in the West, my fri(>nds, 
And the great cause of Freedom, round and round. 

Tknnyson. 

TIIK FORKSTKUS (Selection) 

I'herc is no land like England 

Where'er the light of day he ; 
There arc no hearts like Tinglish hearts. 

Such hearts of oak as they he. 
There is no land like England 

Where'er the light of day bo; 
There are no men like l^inglishmcn, 

So tall and bold as they he. 

And these will strike for England, 

And man and maid })e free, 
To foil and spoil the tyrant 

Beneath the greenwood tree. 

There is no land like England 

Where'er the light of day be; 
There are no wives like English wives, 

So fair and chaste as they be. 
There is no land like England 
Where'er the light of diiy be; 
There no maids like the I'inglish inaids, 

So beautiful as they be. 
(243) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

And those shall wed with freemen, 

And all their sons be free, 
To sing the songs of England 

Beneath the greenwood tree. 

Tennyson. 

IS LIFE WORTH LIVING? (Selection) 
V 

Not care to live while English homes 

Nestle in English trees, 
And England's Trident-Sceptre roams 

Her territorial seas ! 
Not live while English songs are sung 

Wherever blows the wind, 
And England's laws and England's tongue 

Enfranchise half mankind ! 
So long as in Pacific main. 

Or on Atlantic strand, 
Our kin transmit the parent strain. 

And love the Mother-land ; 

m * * 't^ * * 

So long as flashes English steel, 

And English trumpets shrill, 
He is dead already who doth not feel 

Life is worth living still. 

Alfukd Austin. 
By permiasion, AuHin, English Lyuks, Mncinillan Co. 

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND 

Ye mariners of England, 
That guard our native seas ; 
Whose flag has braved a thousand years 
The battle and the breeze ! 
(244) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

Your glorious standard launch again, 
To match another foe ! 
And svvcc]) through the deep, 
While the stormy winds do blow ; 
While the battle rages loud and long, 
And the stormy winds do blow. 

The spirits of your fathers 

Shall start from every wave ! — 

For the deck it was their field of fame. 

And Ocean was their grave: 

Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, 

Your manly hearts shall glow, 

As ye sweep through the deep. 

While the stormy winds do blow ; 

While the battle rages loud and long. 

And the stormy winds do blow. 



The meteor flag of England 

Shall yet terrific burn; 

Till danger's troubled night depart. 

And the star of peace return. 

Then, then, ye ocean warriors ! 

Our song and feast shall flow 

To the fame of your name, 

When the storm has ceased to blow : 

When the fiery fight is heard no more, 

And the storm has ceased to blow. 

Thomas Campbell. 



(245) 



VERSE FOR 'PATRIOTS 

OUR BIT OF " THE THIN RED LINE " 

They have gone with a people's hopes and prayers, 

Out over the eastern brine, 
To strike for the might of Britain's right, 

This bit of " the thin red line." 

And over our loyal land to-night, 

Where the stars of our freedom shine, 

From all true hearts the prayer goes up 
For our bit of " the thin red line." 

They have gone to fight the freeman's fight, 

For our far-off kith and kin : 
Brothers of our own blood and breed, 

In the fight where the right must win : 

For the sacred cause of freedom's laws. 

To win the glad release 
Of those who tread 'neath tyrannies dread. 

And widen the gates of peace. 

We send them forth from our " True North," 

For sacred bond and sign. 
That well or ill, to the great brave end, 

We are Britons from brine to brine. 

And whenever the Lion's hunters are out. 

And danger threatens his lair. 
Be the world on this side, he on that, 

Canadian hearts are there; — 

And stand or fall, though we go to the wall, 

Canadian hearts are true. 
Not only to stand for our own birth land. 

But to die for the Empire, too. 
(246) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

Yea, we send them forth, from our True North, 

Sons of the Empire's might ; 
And alien the heart that will not pray 

For our soldier boys to-night. 

Yea, traitor the heart that takes our bread, 

And drinks our free sunshine. 
That will not throb when the battle joins, 

For our bit of " the thin red line." 

Wilfred Campbell. 
By permission, Campbell, Collected Poems, Fleming H. Revell Co. 

READY, AY, READY 

Old England's sons are English yet. 

Old England's hearts are strong; 
And still she wears her coronet 

Aflame with sword and song. 
As in their pride our fathers died. 

If need be, so die we; 
So wield we still, gainsay who will. 

The sceptre of the sea. 

REFRAIN 

England, stand fast ; let hand and heart be steady ; 
Be thy first word thy last, — Ready, ay, ready ! 

We've Raleighs still for Raleigh's part, 

We've Nelsons yet unknown ; 
The pulses of the Lion Heart 

Beat on through Wellington. 
Hold, Britain, hold thy creed of old, 

Strong foe and steadfast friend. 
And, still unto thy motto true, 

Defy not, but defend. 
(247) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Men whisper'd that our arm was weak, 

Men said our blood was cold, 
And that our hearts no longer speak 

The clarion-note of old; 
But let the spear and sword draw near 

The sleeping lion's den, 
His island shore shall start once more 

To life with armed men. 

EEFRAIN 

England, stand fast ; let heart and hand be steady ; 
Be thy first word thy last, — Ready, ay, ready ! 

Herman Charles Merivale. 



THE RECKONING 

Ye who reckon with England — 

Ye who sweep the seas 
Of the flag that Rodney nailed aloft 

And Nelson flung to the breeze — 
Count well 3'our ships and your men, 

Count well your horse and your guns, 
For they who reckon with England 

Must reckon with England's sons. 

Ye who would challenge England — 

Ye who would break the might 
Of the little isle in the foggy sea 

And the lion-heart in the fight — 
Count well your horse and your swords. 

Weigh well your valour and guns, 
For they who would ride against England 

Must sabre her million sons. 
(248) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

Ye who would roll to warfare 

Your hordes of peasants and slaves, 
To crush the pride of an empire 

And sink her fame in the waves — 
Test well your blood and your mettle, 

Count well your troops and your guns, 
For they who battle with England 

Must war with a Mother's sons. 

Theodore Goodridge Roberts. 



WHEN SPRING COMES BACK 

When Spring comes back to England 

And crowns her brows with May, 
Round the merry, moonlit world 

She goes the greenwood way. 
She throws a rose to Italy, 

A fleur-de-lys to France ; 
And round her regal morris-ring 

The seas of England dance. 

And it's whither away is the Spring to-day? 

To England, to England ! 
In France you'll hear the South Wind say : 
" She's off on a quest for a Queen o' the May, 
So she's over the hills and far away 

To England!" 

She's flown with the swallows across the sea 

To England, to England ! 
For there's many a land of the brave and free. 
But never a home o' the hawthorn-tree. 
And never a Queen o' the May for me 

But England ! 

(249) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

She is here, she is here with her eyes of blue 

In England, in England ! 
She has brought us the rainbows with her, too, 

And a heaven of quivering scent and hue, 
And a glory of shimmering, glimmering dew, 
And a lily for nic and a rose for you 

To England. 

And round the fairy revels whirl 

In England, in England ! 
And the buds outbreak and the leaves unfurl, 
And where the crisp, white cloudlets curl 
The Dawn comes up like a primrose- girl. 
With a crowd of flowers in a basket of pearl 

For England ! 

Alfred Noyes. 
By permission, from " The World's May Queen," Collected Poem8, 
copyright 15)13. 

A CHANT OF LOVE FOR ENGLAND 

A song of hate is a song of Hell ; 
Some there be that sing it well. 
Let them sing it loud and long. 
We lift our hearts in a loftier song: 
We lift our hearts to Heaven above, 
Singing the glory of her we love, — 
England! 

Glory of thought and glory of deed, 
Glory of Hani[)don and Rvninyniede ; 
Glory of ships that sought far goals, 
Glory of swords and glory of souls ! 
Glory of songs mounting as birds, 
Glory immortal of magical words ; 
(250) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

Glory of Milton, glory of Nelson, 
Tragical glory of Gordon and Scott ; 
Glory of Shelley, glory of Sidney, 
Glory transcendent that perishes not, — 
Hers is the story, hers be the glory, 
England! 

Shatter her beauteous breast ye may ; 
The spirit of England none can slay I 
Dash the bomb on the dome of Paul's — 
Deem ye the fame of the Admiral falls? 
Pry the stone from the chancel floor, — 
Dream ye that Shakespeare shall live no more? 
Where is the giant shot that kills 
Wordsworth walking the old green hills? 
Trample the red rose on the ground, — 
Keats is Beauty while earth spins round ! 
Bind her, grind her, burn her with fire, 
Cast her ashes into the sea, — 
She shall escape, she shall aspire. 
She shall arise to make men free : 
She shall arise in a sacred scorn 
Lightning the lives that are yet unborn ; 
Spirit supernal. Splendour eternal, 
ENGLAND ! 

Helen Gray Cone. 

By 'permission, E. P. Button ^ Co. 



(251) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 



ON BEING STYLED " PRO-BOER » 

Friend, call me what you will: no jot care I — 
I that shall stand for England till I die. 
England ! The England that rejoiced to see 
Hellas unbound, Italy one and free ; 
The England that had tears for Poland's doom, 
And in her heart for all the world made room ; 
The England from whose side I have not swerved ; 
The immortal England whom I, too, have served. 
Accounting her all living lands above, 
In Justice, and in Mercy, and in Love. 

William Watson. 

From Poems, by William Watson. 
Copyright 1905, by John Lane Co. 



SCOTLAND 

O Caledonia ! stern and wild, 

Meet nurse for a poetic child ! 

Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, 

Land of the mountain and the flood. 

Land of my sires ! what mortal hand 

Can e'er untie the filial band 

That knits me to thy rugged strand.? 

Still, as I view each well-known scene. 

Think what is now, and what hath been, 

Seems as, to me, of all bereft. 

Sole friends thy woods and streams were left ; 

And thus I love them better still. 

Even in extremity of ill. 

Sir Walter Scott. 
(262) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 



SONNET XI 



When I have borne in memory what has tamed 

Great Nations, how ennobhng thoughts depart 

When men change Swords for Ledgers, and desert 

The Student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed 

I had, my Country ! — am I to be blamed ? 

But when I think of Thee, and what Thou art, 

Verily, in the bottom of my heart. 

Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. 

But dearly must we prize thee ; we who find 

In thee a bulwark for the cause of men ; 

And I by my affection was beguiled: 

What wonder if a Poet now and then, 

Among the many movements of his mind, 

Felt for thee as a Lover or a Child ! 

William Wordsworth. 



THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL (Selection) 

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, 

This is my own, my native land ! 
Whose heart hath ne'er within himi burn'd, 
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd, 

From wandering on a foreign strand ! 
If such there breathe, go, mark him well ; 
For him no Minstrel raptures swell ; 
High though his titles, proud his name. 
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; 
Despite those titles, power, and pelf, 
The wretch, concentred all in self, 
(253) 



VEHSK FOR PATRIOTS 

liivin^, shall i'orfcMt fair ronown. 

And, doubly dying, slinll go ilown 

To the vilo dust, from whence he sprung, 

Unwept, luihonoiu-'d, and unsuiif^. 

Walter Scott. 



COLUMBIA 

('olunibia, Columbia, to glory arise 

The (jueen of the world, and the child of the skies ; 

'I^hy genius coinni/inds theo ; witli rapture behold, 

While ages on ages thy splendor unfold; 

Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time, 

INIost fruitful ihy soil, most inviting thy clime; 

Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name. 

Be freedom, and science, and virtue thy fame. 

P^air science her gates to thy sons shall unbar. 
And the east see the morn hide the beams of her star. 
New bards and new sages, unrivalled shall soar 
To fame unextinguished, when time is no more ; 
To thee the last refuge of virtue designed. 
Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind; 
Here grateful to heaven, with transport shall bring 
Their incense, more fragrant than odors of spring, 

41* 4K W 4|» 4l» iO 

Thy fleets to all regions thy power shall display, 

The nations admire and the ocean obey ; 

Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold. 

And the east and the south yield their spices and gold. 

(254) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

While the ensigns of union, in triunii)h unfurled, 
Hush the tunnilt of war and give peace to the world, 
Columbia, Columbia, to glorj arise 
The (jueen of the world, and the child of the skies. 

Timothy Dwight. 



PATRIA 

I would not even ask my heart to say 
If I could love another land as well 
As thee, my country, had I felt the spell 

Of Italy at birth, or learned to obey 

The charm of France, or England's nu'ghty sway. 
I would not be so much an infidel 
As once to dream, or fashion words to tell, 

What land could hold my heart fromi thee away. 

For like a law of nature in my l)lood 

I feel thy sweet and secret sovereignty. 
And woven through my soul thy vital sign. 
My life is but a wave and thou the flood ; 
I am a leaf and thou the mother-tree; 
Nor should I be at all, were I not thine. 

Henry Van Dyke. 
From Poems. copyri(/hf. 1912. by Charles Scrihner's Sons. By 
pflrniission of the puhlishers. 



(255) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 



THE FATHERLAND 

Where is the true man's fatherland? 

Is it where he by chance is born? 

Doth not the yearning spirit scorn 
In such scant borders to be spanned? 
Oh, yes ! his fatherland must be 
As the blue heaven wide and free ! 

Is it alone where freedom is, 

Where God is God and man is man? 
Doth he not claim a broader span 

For the soul's love of home than this? 

Oh, yes ! his fatherland must be 

As the blue heaven wide and free ! 

Where'er a human heart doth wear 

Joy's myrtle-wreath or sorrow's gyves. 
Where'er a human spirit strives 

After a life more true and fair. 

There is the true man's birthplace grand, 

His is a world-wide fatherland ! 

Where'er a single slave doth pine. 

Where'er one man may help another, — 
Thank God for such a birthright, brother, — 

That spot of earth is thine and mine ! 

There is the true man's birthplace grand. 

His is a world-wide fatherland ! 

James Russell Lowell,. 
By 'permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co., from Lowell's Poems. 



(256) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

AMERICA 
(From the National Ode, July 4, 1876) 

Foreseen in the vision of sages, 

Foretold when martyrs bled. 
She was born of the longing of ages, 

By the truth of the noble dead 

And the faith of the living fed ! 
No blood in her lightest veins 
Frets at remembered chains, 
Nor shame of bondage has bowed her head. 
In her form and features still 
The unblenching Puritan will, 
Cavalier honor, Huguenot grace, 
The Quaker truth and sweetness, 
And the strength of the danger-girdled race 
Of Holland, blend in a proud completeness. 
From the homes of all, where her being began, 

She took what she gave to Man ; 

Justice, that knew no station, 

Belief, as soul decreed, 

Free air for aspiration. 

Free force for independent deed ! 

She takes, but to give again. 
As the sea returns the rivers in rain ; 
And gathers the chosen of her seed 
Fromi the hunted of every crown and creed. 

Her Germany dwells by a gentler Rhine ; 

Her Ireland sees the old sunburst shine ; 

Her France pursues some dream divine ; 

Her Norway keeps his mountain pine ; 

Her Italy waits by the western brine ; 
And broad-based under all, 
17 <257) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Is planted England's oaken-hearted mood, 

As rich in fortitude 
As e'er went worldward from the island-wall ! 

Fused in her candid light, 
To one strong race all races here unite ; 
Tongues melt in hers, hereditary foemen 
Forget their sword and slogan, kith and clan. 

'Twas glory, once, to be a Roman : 
She makes it glory, now, to be a man ! 

Bayard Tayloe. 

By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co., from. Taylor's Poeticai, Works. 



SCUM O' THE EARTH 

I 

At the gate of the West I stand. 
On the isle where nations throng. 
We call them " scum o' the earth " : 

Stay, are we doing you wrong. 

Young fellow from Socrates' land? — 

You, like a Hermes, so lissome and strong. 

Fresh from the master Praxiteles' hand? 

So you're of Spartan birth? 

Descended, perhaps, from one of the band — 

Deathless in story and song — 

Who combed their long hair at Thermopylae's pass — 

Ah, I forget the straits, alas ! 

More tragic than theirs, more compassion-worth. 

That have doomed you to march in " our immigrant 

class," 
Where you're nothing but " scum o' the earth." 

(258) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

n 

You Pole with the child on your knee, 

What dower bring you to the land of the free? 

Hark ! does she croon 

That sad little tune 

That Chopin once found on his Polish lea 

And mounted in gold for you and for me? 

Now a ragged young fiddler answers 

In wild Czech melody 

That Dvorak took whole from the dancers. 

And the heavy faces bloom 

In the wonderful Slavic way ; 

The little, dull eyes, the brows a-gloom, 

Suddenly dawn like the day. 



Newcomers all from the eastern seas. 

Help us incarnate dreams like these. 

Forget, and forgive, that we did you wrong. 

Help us to father a nation strong 

In the comradeship of an equal birth, 

In the wealth of the richest bloods of earth. 

Robert Haven Schauffler. 
By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co., from Schauffler's Scum o' the Eabth. 

A ROUND TRIP 

In swaddling clothes he came across the sea 

In flight from wrong. 
Before his eyes all vast blue mystery, 

Waves rolling long, 
And in his ears an Old World melody — 

His mother's song. 
(259) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

In khaki he goes back across the sea 

To smite a wrong, 
Before his eyes the ocean majesty 

Outraged too long, 
And in his ears " My Country, 'Tis of Thee " — 

His mother's song. 

McLandburgh Wilson. 

By permission, Wilson, The Little Flag on Main Street, Mac- 
millan Co. 



THE FOREIGN BORN 

Who are the foreign bom ? Not those 
Whose pulses to Old Glory thrill, 
Who would protect it with their blows 
From insult of a tyrant's will. 
What though their bodies sprang from earth 
Upon a strange and distant strand, 
'Tis here their spirits found their birth. 
And they are natives in the land. 

Who are the native born ? Not those 
Who falter in the Flag's defence. 
Who would not die against its foes 
And count the joy a recompense. 
What though the ancestry they scorn 
Runs backward to the Pilgrim band.'' 
Their spirits have been elsewhere born 
And they are aliens in the land. 

McLandburgh Wilson. 
By permission, Wilson, The Little Flag on Main Street, Mae- 
millan Co. 

(260) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 



THE SONG OF THE FOREIGN-BORN 

We came, and you bade us welcome, 

You gave of your golden store, 
When oppressed in the land of our fathers 

We thronged through your wide-flung door, 
The Celt from the Isle of sorrow, 

The Teuton and Frank as one 
We followed the gleam of a hopeful dream 

To the Land of the Setting Sun. 

They lie, who would brand us ungrateful. 

And false to a nation's trust. 
That stooped like a loving mother 

And lifted us out of the dust. 
Please God, you will never need it, 

But if cause there should ever be, 
Our blades like flame will defend your name 

And our cherished Liberty. 

We will gather like clouds of the tempest 

At the threat of a mailed hand, 
And the tread of our marching millions 

Shall thunder across the land. 
The flash of our righteous lightning 

Shall illuminate the world, 
Where flying free our foes will see 

The Stars and Stripes unfurled. 

Robert Emmet Careoll. 
By ptrmission, Poets of the Future, Stratford Co. 



(261) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

FROM "THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP" 

Thou, loo, sail on, () Sliip of State! 

Sail on, O Union, strong and great! 

Humanity with all its fears, 

With all the hopes of future jcars, 

Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 

We know what 'Master laid thy keel, 

What Worknun wrought thy ribs of steel, 

Who nuide each mast, and sail, and rope. 

What anvils rang, what hanuners beat, 

In what a forge and what a heat 

Were shapinl the anchors of thy hope! 

Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 

'Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 

'Tis but the (lapping of the sail, 

And not a rent made by the gale! 

In spite of rock and tempest's roar, 

In spite of false liglits on the shore, 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! 

Our hearts, our hopes, arc all with thee, 

Our hearts, our ho})cs, our prayers, our tears. 

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears. 

Are all with thcc, are all with thee ! 

IIknuv WAnswoiiTu Longfellow. 

Ihf i>tinnisgion of, and by spvcial anainiemeut with, lloucfhton 
MifHin Co., from Lonyfellow'a Comi'leitj I'iieticai, Works. 

FROM " MY (X)UNTRY " 

O destined Land, unto thy citadel, 
What founding fates even now doth peace compel, 
Thot through the world thy name is sweet to tell! 
O throned FVeedom, unto thee is brought 

Empire; nor falsehood nor blood-paj'ment asked; 
(262) 



HOME AND COUNTRY 

Who never through deceit thy ends hast sought, 

Nor toiling niillionvS for ambition tasked; 

Unlike the fools who build the throne 
On fraud, and wrong, and woe; 

For man at last will take his own, 
Nor count the overthrow; 
Hut far fromi these is set thy continent, 

Nor fears the Revolution in man's rise; 
On laws that with tlie weal of all consent, 

And saving truths ihat make the j)eo|)le wise: 
For thou art founded in the eternal fattt 
That every imin doth gieaten with the act 
Of freedom; and doth strengthen with the weight 
Of duty; an<l diviner moulds his fate, 
By sharp experience taught the thing he lacked, 
God's pupil ; thy large maxim framed, though late, 
Who masters best himself best serves the State. 
This wisdom is thy Corner: next the stone 
Of Bounty; thou hast given all; thy store, 
Free as the air, and broadcast as the light, 
Thou flingcst; and the fair and gracious sight. 
More rich, doth teach thy sons this hai)py lore: 
That no man lives who takes not priceless gifts 
Both of thy substance and thy laws, whereto 
He may not plead deseit, but holds of thee 
A childhood title, shared with all who grew. 
His brethren of the ln'arth ; whence no man lifts 
Above the common riglit his claim ; nor dares 
To fence his j)astures of the common good: 
For common arc thy fields ; common the toil ; 
Common the charter of prosj)erity, 
That gives to each that all may blessed be. 
This is the very counsel of thy soil. 

(263) 



WAIHE roil PATRIOTS 

'J'lierefort', if any thrive, mean-soulecl ho spares 
'J'he ahiis he look ; lot him not think sub(hied 
The State's first hiw, that civic rights are strong 
Hut while tlie fruits of all to all belong; 
All hough he heir the fortune of the earth, 
liCt him not hoard, nor spend it for his mirth, 
IJut match his private means with public worth. 
That nuui in whom the people's riclics lie 
Is the great citizen, in his country's eye. 
.Justice, the third groat baso, that shall secure 
To each his earnings, howsoever poor, 
From each his duties, howsoever great. 
She bids the future for the past atone. 
Dohold her symbols on I he hoary stone — 
The awful scales and that war-hammered beam 
Which whoso thinks to break doth fondly dream, 
Or C/ars who tyrannize or mobs that rage ; 
These arc her charge, and heaven's eternal law. 
She from old fountains doth new judgment draw. 
'i'ill, word by word, the ancient order swerves 
To the true course more nigh ; in every age 
A litflo she crc/dcs, but more preserves. 
IIopi- stands the last, a mighty prop of fate. 
These Ihy foiuuiations are, O firm-set State! 

Gkohc.k Kdwauo Woodbrhry. 
Jh/ permwion, WoodOerrif, I'oejms, Mannillan Co, 



(264) 



THE FLAG AND FREEDOM 



TIIK AMKHICAN Vl.AC, 



VVIu'ii Froodoin, from licr moMiilHin liciglil, 

Unfiirlr<l lnT Nl/iiHinrd lo I lie nir, 
Slir lovf llw «/,iirr r()lu' of ni/^l\t, 

Aiul Ni'l [\\v stars of gl<'iv llu-rr. 

DnAKK (p. 208), 



THE FLAG AND FREEDOM 

THE FLAG GOES BY 

Hats oflF ! 

Along the street there comes 

A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, 

A flasli of colour beneath the sky : 

Hats ofT! 

The flag is passing hy ! 

Blue and crimson and white it shines, 

Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines. 

Hats off! 

The colours before us fly ; 

But more than the flag is passing by : 

Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great, 

Fought to make and to save the State : 

Weary marches and sinking ships ; 

Cheers of victory on dying lips ; 

Days of plenty and years of peace ; 
March of a strong land's swift increase; 
Ecjual justice, right and law, 
Stately honour and reverend awe ; 

Sign of a nation great and strong 
To ward her people from foreign wrong : 
]*ride and glory and honour — all 
Live in the colours to stand or fall. 

Hats off ! 

Along the street there comes 

A blare of bugles, a ruffle of diums ; 

And loyal hearts are beating high: 

Hats off ! 

The flag is passing by ! 

HlONttY HOLCOMB BeNNETT. 

Oy pfirmisiiion, 'i'liE Youth's Cowan ion, CDpyr'Kjht, lf)07, /;</ J. H. 
Barnes Co. 

(267) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

STAND BY THE FLAG! 

• ♦***# 

Stand by the Fla^'! Its stripes have streamed in glory, 
To foes a fear, to friends a festal robe; 

And spread in rhythmic lines the sacred story 
Of freedom's triumphs over all the globe. 

Stand by the Flag! On land and ocean billow. 

By it your fathers stood, uiunoved and true ; 
Living, defended; dying, from their pillow 

With their last blessing passed it on to you. 

« * « » <» • 

Stand by the Flag, though death shots round it rattle, 
And underneath its waving folds have met, 

In all the dread array of sanguine battle, 

The quiv'ring lance and glitt'ring bayonet! 

Stand by the Flag, all doubt and danger scorning! 

Believe, with courage firm and faith sublime, 
'I'hat it shall float until th' eternal morning 

Pales in its glories all the lights of Time. 

John Nichols Wildke. 



THE AMERICAN FLAG 

When Freedom, from her mountain height. 
Unfurled her standard to the air, 

She tore the azure robe of night, 
And set the stars of glory there. 

She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 

The milky baldric of the skies, 
(208) 



THE FLAG AND FREEDOM 

And striped its pure, celestial white 
With streakings of the morning light ; 
Then from his mansion in the sun 
She called her eagle bearer down, 
And gave into his mighty hand 
The symbol of her chosen land. 



Flag of the free heart's hope and home! 
By angel hands to valor given ; 
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome. 
And all thy hues were born in heaven. 
Forever float that standard sheet ! 
Where breathes the foe but falls before us, 
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, 
And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ! 

Joseph Rodman Drake. 



THE FLOWER OF LIBERTY 

What flower is this that greets the morn 

Its hues from heaven so freshly born? 

With burning star and flaming band 

It kindles all the sunset land ; — 

O tell us what its name may be ! 

Is this the Flower of Liberty? 
It is the banner of the free, 
The starry Flower of Liberty! 

In savage Nature's far abode 
Its tender seed our fathers sowed; 
The storm-winds rocked its swelling bud, 
its opening leaves were streaked with blood, 
(269) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Till, lo! earth's tyrants shook to see 
The full-blown Flower of Liberty ! 

Then hail the banner of the free, 

The starry Flower of Liberty ! 

Behold its streaming rays unite 

One mingling flood of braided light — 

The red that fires the Southern rose, 

With spotless white from Northern snows. 

And, spangled o'er its azure, see 

The sister Stars of Liberty! 

Then hail the banner of the free, 

The starry Flower of Liberty ! 

The blades of heroes fence it round ; 
Where'er it springs is holy ground; 
From tower and dome its glories spread ; 
It waves where lonely sentries tread ; 
It makes the land as ocean free. 
And plants an empire on the sea ! 

Then hail the banner of the free, 

The starry Flag of Liberty ! 

Thy sacred leaves, fair Freedom's flower, 
Shall ever float on dome and tower. 
To all their heavenly colors true. 
In blackening frost or crimson dew — 
And God love us as we love thee. 
Thrice holy Flower of Liberty! 

Then hail the banner of the free. 

The starry Flower of Liberty ! 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co., from) Uolmes' Poems. 
(270) 



THE FLAG AND FREEDOM 

LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD 

Warden at ocean's gate, 

Thy feet on sea and shore, 
Like one the skies await 

When time shall be no more ! 
What splendors crown thy brow? 
What bright dread angel Thou, 

Dazzling the waves before 
Thy station great? 

" My name is Liberty ! 

From out a mighty land 
I face the ancient sea, 

I lift to God my hand ; 
By day in Heaven's light, 
A pillar of fire by night. 

At ocean's gate I stand 
Nor bend the knee. 



" But ye that hither draw 

To desecrate my fee, 
Nor yet have held in awe 

The justice that makes free, — 
Avaunt, ye darkling brood! 
By Right my house hath stood : 

My name is Liberty, 
My Throne is Law." 

^ ^ 'TP ^ V *?* 

Edmund Claeence Stedman. 
By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co., from Stedman's Complete Poetical Works. 
(271) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

A GODSPEED 

God spccfl Old Glory when slip takes the road to France! 

Through the thundering of the legions where the bugles 
play advance 

God speak: "The fight is mine. Carry you my con- 
quering lance." 

God speed Old Glory on ! 

God send Old Glory first and foremost in the fight ! 
Ellng her fur, () God of huttlos, in the van, for the right. 
Lift our hearts up to our freedom's flag of red-and- 
blue-and-wliitc. 

God fling Old Glory far ! 

God guard Old Glory clean through battle grime and 

sweat ! 
Consecrate the men who serve her so that none may e'er 

forget 
How the honor of the colors lies within liis keeping yet. 
God guard Old Glory clean ! 

God bring Old Glory home in honor, might, and pride; 
Battle-black and bullet-slashed and stripes streaming 

wide, 
Gorgeous with the memories of men who greatly died — 
God bring Old Glory home ! 

Mauy Raymond Shipman Andrews. 
Prom CnoHSKS or Waii, copyright 1917, lOlH by Charles Scribner's 
Sons. By porminnoii of the jmbluhors. 

THE MINSTREL-BOY 

The Minstrel-Boy to the war has gone, 
In the ranks of death you'll find him ; 

His father's sword he has girded on, 
And liis wild harp slung behind him. 

(272) 



THE FLAG AND FREEDOM 

" Land of song ! " said the warrior bard, 
" Though nil the world betrays thee. 

One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard. 
One faithful harp shall praise thee ! " 

The Minstrel fell! — but the fooinan's chain 
Could not bring his proud soul under; 

The liurp he loved ne'er spoke again, 
For he tore its chords asunder ; 

And said, " No chains shall sully thee, 

Thou soul of love and bravery ! 
Thy songs were made for the pure and free, 

They shall never sound in slavery." 

Thomas Moork 



THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S 
HALLS 

The harp that once through Tara's halls 

The soul of music shed. 
Now hangs as nmte on Tara's walls 

As if that soul were fled. 
So sleeps the pride of former days. 

So glory's thrill is o'er, 
And hearts that once beat high for praise 

Now feel that pulse no more! 

No more to chiefs and ladies bright 

The harp of Tara swells ; 
The chord alone that breaks at night 

Its tale of ruin tells. 
18 (273) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, 

The only throb she gives 
Is when some heart indignant breaks, 

To show that still she lives. 

Thomas Moore. 

STANZAS ON FREEDOM 

Men ! whose boast it is that ye 
Come of fathers brave and free. 
If there breathe on earth a slave. 
Are ye truly free and brave? 
If ye do not feel the chain. 
When it works a brother's pain, 
Are ye not base slaves indeed. 
Slaves unworthy to be freed.'' 

Women ! who shall one day bear 
Sons to breathe New England air. 
If ye hear without a blush, 
Deeds to make the roused blood rush 
Like red lava through your veins. 
For your sisters now in chains — 
Answer ! are ye fit to be 
Mothers of the brave and free.? 

Is true Freedom but to break 
Fetters for our own dear sake. 
And, with leathern hearts, forgot 
That we owe mankind a debt? 
No ! true freedom is to share 
All the chains our brothers wear. 
And, with heart and hand, to be 
Earnest to make others free. 
(274) 



THE FLAG AND FREEDOM 

They are slaves who fear to speak 

For the fallen and the weak ; 

They are slaves who will not choose 

Hatred, scoffing, and abuse. 

Rather than in silence shrink 

From the truth they needs must think; 

They are slaves who dare not be 

In the right with two or three. 

James Russell Lowell. 
By permiasion of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co., from Lowell's Poems. 



(276j 



PEACE AFTER WAR 



PEACE 

O Lord of Pcuce, who art Lord of Righteousness, 
Constrain the anguished worlds from sin and grief, 

Pierce them with conscience, purge them with redress, 
And give us peace which is no counterfeit ! 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



(278) 



PEACE AFTER WAR 

ONE BENEATH OLD GLORY 

Don't you hear the tramp of soldiers? 
Don't you hear the bugles play? 
Don't you see the muskets flashing 
In the sunlight far away? 
Don't you feel the ground all trembling 
'Neath the tread of many feet? 
They are coming, tens of thousands, 
To the army and the fleet. 

They are Yankees, they arc Johnnies, 
They're from North and South no more ; 
They are one, and glad to follow 
Where Old Glory goes before. 
From Atlantic to Pacific, 
From the Pine Tree to Lone Star, 
They are gath'ring round Old Glory, 
And they're marching to the war. 

Don't you see the harbors guarded 

By those bristling dogs of war? 

Don't you hear them growling, barking. 

At the fleet beyond the bar? 

Don't you hear the Jack Tars cheering, 

Brave as sailor lads can be? 

Don't you see the water boiling 

Where the squadron put to sea? 

They are Yankees, they are Johnnies, 
They're for North and! South no more ; 
They are one, and glad to follow 
Where Old Glory goes before. 
(279) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

From Atlantic to Pacific, 
From the Pine Tree to liOnc Star, 
Thoy have ^ntlirrcd 'round Old Glory, 
And tln-yVc sailing to the war. 

There'll be Yankees, there'll be Johnnies, 
I'here'll be North and South no more. 
When t he boys come marchinf( homeward 
With Old (ilory borne before. 
From Atlantic to Pacific, 
From the Pine Tree to Lone Star, 
They'll be one beneath Old (Jlory 
After coming from the war. 

Anonymous. 



THE BLUE AND THE GRAY 

Ry the flow of the inland river. 
Whence the fleets of iron have fled; 
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver, 
Asleep are the ranks of the dead : 
Under the sod and the dew. 

Waiting the judgment day; 
Under the one, the Rluc, 
Under the other, the Gray. 

These in the robings of glory, 
Those in the gloom of defeat. 
All with the battle-blood gory. 
In the dusk of eternity meet: 
(280) 



PEACE AVTFM WAH, 

Under flio sod and I lie dew. 

Waiting the jud^iiu'iil day; 
Ulidrr tlu' luurcl, llic nine. 

Under Mic willow, llir (iniy. 

« w * « » # 

Sadly, bill no! willi upbraiding, 
Tlir /^cni'roiis t\rvt\ was done, 
In lli(> slorni of I lie v«'"i''< liial, /ire Tailing 
No braver bailie was won: 
Under the ,sod and the dew, 

Wuiiin/,f the jiid/^nienl (biy ; 
Under llie blossoms, llie llliie. 
Under (he garlands, llie (Jray. 

No more shall Ihe w/ir cry sever, 
Or Ihe windiii/r rivers be red; 
They l)a,niNh our /iri^er forever 
When Ihey laurel IIk- /^r/ives of our (lend! 
Under Ihe sod »ind Ihe dew. 

Waiting the jud/^meid. day; 
TiOve and l,e»irs for llx' Hlue, 
'l\'ars and love for Ihe (li'ay. 

I'^UANCIS IVllI.KH l''rN{'ll. 
//;/ pflrmhtii<in, 'Viir. A-i'lantic IMontiii.v miil llmni/ Halt .y (Ut,, 
from 'I'liK Hmik and tmk (Jihav. 

AS TTTE SONS OF TIIK V\.M\ ADVANCE 

ITere's l.o Ihe Hliie of Ihe wind swe|)l. Norlh, 
When we meet; on the fields of I"'ra,iice ; 

May the spirit of (Jrant be with you all 
As Ihe sons of Ihe North advance. 
(281) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

And here's to the Gray of the sun-kissed South, 
When we meet on the fields of France; 

May the spirit of Lee be with you all 
As the sons of the South advance. 

And here's to the Blue and Gray as one, 
When we meet on the fields of France ; 

May the Spirit of God be with you all 

As the sons of the Flag advance. 

George Morrow Mayo. 
By permission of The New York Times. 

TUBAL CAIN 

Old Tubal Cain was a man of might, 

In the days when earth was young ; 
By the fierce red light of his furnace bright. 

The strokes of his hammer rung: 
And he lifted high his brawny hand 

On the iron glowing clear, 
Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers. 

As he fashioned the sword and the spear. 
And he sang : " Hurrah for my handiwork ! 

Hurrah for the spear and the sword! 
Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well, 

For he shall be king and lord." 

* MIc * * Hi 

But a sudden change came o'er his heart. 

Ere the setting of the sun. 
And Tubal Cain was filled with pain 

For the evil he had done ; 
He saw that men, with rage and hate, 

Made war upon their kind, 
(282) 



PEACE AFTER WARj, 

That the land was red with the blood they shed, 

In their lust for carnage blind. 
And he said : " Alas ! that ever I made, 

Or that skill of mine should plan, 
The spear and the sword for men whose joy 

Is to slay their fellow-man ! " 

And for many a day old Tubal Cain 

Sat brooding o'er his woe; 
And his hand forbore to smite the ore, 

And his furnace smouldered low. 
But he rose at last with a cheerful face, 

And a bright, courageous eye, 
And bared his strong right arm for work. 

While the quick flames mounted high. 
And he sang: " Hurrah for my handiwork! " 

And the red sparks lit the air ; 
" Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made "- 

And he fashioned the first ploughshare. 

And men, taught wisdom from the past, 

In friendship joined their hands, 
Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall, 

And ploughed the willing lands. 
And sang : " Hurrah for Tubal Cain ! 

Our stanch good friend is he ; 
And for the ploughshare and the plough 

To him our praise shall be. 
But while oppression lifts its head. 

Or a tyrant would be lord. 
Though we may thank him for the plough, 

We'll not forget the sword." 

Charles Mackay. 
(^83) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

FALSE PEACE AND TRUE 

There is a peace wherein man's mood is tame — 
Like clouds upon a windless sununer day 

The hours float by ; the people take no shame 
In alien mocks ; like children are they gay. 

Such peace is craven-bought, the cost is great; 
Not so is nourished a puissant state. 

There is a peace amidst the shock of arms 

That satisfies the soul, though all the air 
Hurtles with horror and is rude with harms ; 

Life's gray gleams into golden deeds, and where. 
The while swords slept, unrighteousness was done, 
Wrong takes her death-blow, and from sun to sun 
That clarion cry. My Country! makes men one. 

Richard Bueton. 

By permission, llurlon, Memouial Day, Lothrop, Lee vj Shepard Co. 

WHEN THE GREAT GRAY SHIPS COME IN 
(New York Harbor, August 20, 1898) 

Ah! in the sweet hereafter Columbia still shall show 
The sons of these who swept the seas how she bade them 

rise and go, — 
How, when the stirring summons smote on her children's 

ear. 
South and North at the call stood forth, and the whole 

land answered, " Here ! " 
For the soul of the soldier's story and the heart of the 

sailor's song 
Are all of those who meet their foes as rigilit should meet 

with wrong; 

(284) 



PEACE AFTER WAR 

Who fight their guns till the foeman runs, and then, on 

the decks they trod, 
Brave faces raise, and give the praise to the grace of 

their country's God ! 

Yes, it is good to battle, and good to be strong and free. 
To carry the hearts of a people to the uttermost ends 

of sea; 
To see the day steal up the bay where the enemy lies in 

wait, 
To run your ship to the harbor's lip and sink her across 

the strait : — 
But better the golden evening when the ships round 

heads for home, 
And the long gray miles slip swiftly past in a swirl of 

seething foam, 
And the people wait at the haven's gate to greet the 

men who win ! 
Thank God for peace ! Thank God for peace, when the 

great gray ships come in ! 

Guy Wetmore Carryl. 
By permission, Carryl, The Gabden of Years, G. P. Putnam's Sons. 

WHEN THE CANNON BOOMS 
When the cannon booms, 

When the war-drums rattle fiercely 
And the feet of men in khaki hammer time out on the 
pave. 
It is easy to be brave ; 
It is easy to believe that God is angry with the other 

Man, our brother. 
And has left the sword of Gideon in our wayward human 
hand, 
When the cannon booms. 
(286) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

When the cannon booms, 
When the primal love of fighting stirs the tiger in our 
blood, 
And the fascinating smell 
Of the sulphur-fumes of hell 
Rouses memories of the pit from which our human 
nature rose, 

It is easy to forget 
God was not found in the earthquake, in the strong wind 

or the fire; 
It is easy to forget how at last the prophet heard Him 

As a still, small voice, 

When the cannon booms. 

When the cannon booms, 
When the war-lords strut and swagger 
And the battle-ships are plowing for the bitter crop of 
death. 
While the shouting rends the ear, 

Echoing from the empyrean. 
It is difficult to hear 

Through the din the Galilean 
With His calm voice preaching peace on earth to men ; 
'Twill be easier to claim, 
If we wUl, the Christian name. 
To become as little children and be men of gentle will, 
When the cannon booms — the cannon booms — ^no more. 

William Heebeet Caeeuth. 
By permifsion, Carruth, Each in His Own Tongue, G. P. Put- 
nam's Sons. 



(288) 



PEACE AFTER WAR 

WAR 

The great Republic goes to war, 

But spring still comes as spring has done, 
And all the summer months will run 
Their summer sequence as before; 
And every bird will build its nest, 
The sun sink daily in the west, 

And rising eastward bring new day 
In the old way. 

But ah ! those dawns will have a light, 
Those western skies burn golden bright, 
With what a note the birds will sing. 
And winter's self be turned to spring 

Than any springtime sweeter far, 
When once again, calm entering. 

The great Republic comes from war ! 

Grace Ellery Channing-Stetson. 
From. Sea Drift, by Grace E. Channing-Stetson, copyrighted 1899, 
reprinted by permission of the publishers, Small, Maynard 
i' Co., Inc. 

LOCKSLEY HALL (Selection) 

fp tP fljc ^p flp tV 

For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, 
Saw the vision of the world and all the wonder that 
would be ; 

Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic 

sails. 
Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly 

bales ; 

(287) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rained 

a ghastly dew 
From the nation's airy navies grappling in the central 

blue; 

Far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind 

rushing warm, 
With the standards of the peoples plunging thro' the 

thunder-storm ; 

Till the war-drum throbbed no longer, and the battle- 
flags were furled 
In the Parliament of Man, the Federation of the World. 

Tennyson. 



BETWEEN MIDNIGHT AND MORNING 

You that have faith to look with fearless eyes 
Beyond the tragedy of a world at strife. 

And trust that out of night and death shall rise 
The dawn of ampler life. 

Rejoice, whatever anguish rend your heart, 
That God has given you, for a priceless dower, 

To live In these great times and have your part 
In Freedom's crowning hour. 

That you may tell your sons who see the light 
High in the heavens, their heritage to take: — 

" I saw the powers of darkness put to flight ! 
I saw the morning break ! " 

Sm Owen Seaman. 

Reprinted by <permission of London Punch. 

(288) 



PEACE AFTER WAR 

WHEN THERE IS PEACE 

" When there is Peace, this land no more 
Will be the land we knew of yore." 
Thus do the facile seers foretell 
The truth that none can buy or sell 
And e'en the wisest must ignore. 

When we have bled at every pore, 
Shall we still strive for gear and store? 
Will it be Heaven, will it be Hell, 
When there is Peace? 

This let us pray for — this implore — 
That, all base dreams thrust out at door. 
We may in nobler aims excel. 
And, like men waking from a spell. 
Grow stronger, worthier than before. 
When there is Peace! 

Austin Dobson. 

By permiation, Dobaon, Poems, Dodd, Mead ^ Co, 



19 (289) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 



THE HOUR AND THE MAN 

No man can choose what coming hours may bring 

To him of need, of joy, of suffering; 

But what his soul shall bring unto each hour 

To meet its challenge — this is in his power. 

Priscilla Leonard. 
By permUsion, The Outlook. 



FROM A CREED 

So shall I fight, so shall I tread, 

In this long war beneath the stars ; 

So shall a glory wreathe my head, 

So shall I faint and show the scars, 

Until this case, this clogging mould, 

Be smithied all to kingly gold. 

John Masefield. 
By permission, Masefield, Poems and Plays, Macmillan Co. 



(292) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

PLUCK 

Thank God for pluck — unknown to slaves — 

The self ne'er of itself bereft, 
Who, when the right arm's shattered, waves 

The good flag with the left. 

Ethelwyn Wetherald. 
By permisfion of the Author. 

PUT IT THROUGH 

Come, Freemen of the land, 
Come meet the last demand ! 
Here's a piece of work in hand : 
Put it through ! 
• ««*«* 

Here's a country that's half free, 
And it waits for you and me. 
To say what its fate shall be: 
Put it through ! 



For the Birthrights yet unsold, 
For the History yet untold. 
For the Future yet unrolled, 
Put it through! 

« « « « « 

Here's a work of God half done. 
Here's the kingdom of His Son, 
With its triumphs just begun: 
Put it through ! 
♦ * * * * 

(293) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

'Tis to you the Trust is given ! 
'Tis by you the Bolt is driven ! 
By the very God of Heaven, 
Drive it through ! 



Anonymous. 



CARRY ON ! 



It's easy to fight when everything's right, 

And you're mad with the thrill and the glory ; 

It's easy to cheer when victory's near, 

And wallow in fields that are gory. 

It's a different song when everything's wrong, 

When you're feeling infernally niiortal; 

When it's ten against one, and hope there is none. 

Buck up, little soldier, and chortle : 

Carry on ! Carry on ! 
There isn't much punch in your blow. 
You're glaring and staring and hitting out blind ; 
You're muddy and bloody, but never you mind. 
Carry on ! Carry on ! 
You haven't the ghost of a show. 
It's looking like death, but while you've breath, 
Carry on, my son ! Carry on ! 

And so in the strife of the battle of life 

It's easy to fight when you're winning; 

It's easy to slave, and starve and be brave, 

When the dawn of success is beginning. 

But the man who can meet despair and defeat 

With a cheer, there's the man of God's choosing; 

The man who can fight to Heaven's own height 

Is the man who can fight when he's losing. 
« « w « « <i» 

(294) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

Carry on ! Carry on ! 
Fight the good fight and true; 
Believe in your mission, greet life with a cheer; 
There's big work to do, and that's why you are here. 
Carry on ! Carry on ! 
Let the world be the better for you ; 
And at last when you die, let this be your cry : 
Carry on, my soul! Carry on! 

Robert W. Service. 
Prom Rhymes of a Red Cross Man, by Robert W. Service, pub- 
lished by Barge ^ Hopkins, New York. 

WHATEVER ODDS THERE ARE 

Give me but room to fight my way — 

I ask no other gift from Fate ; 
Though it should crowd on me at bay. 

Where only ghosts and shadows wait. 



No glint of glory from the height, 
No flare of fame to call me far ; 

Merely the ground to make my fight 

Against whatever odds there are. 

Grantland Rice. 
By permission, Bice, Sokos of the Stalwart, D. Appleton ^ Co. 

A MAN MUST LIVE 

A man must live! We justify 
Low shift and trick to treason high, 
A little vote for a little gold, 
To a whole senate bought and sold, 
With this self-evident reply. 
(295) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

But is it so? Pray tell me why 
Life at such cost you have to buy ? 
In what religion were you told 
*' A man must live? " 

There are times when a man must die. 
Imagine for a battle-cry 
From soldiers with a sword to hold — 
Fromi soldiers with the flag unrolled — 
This coward's whine, this liar's lie, 
" A man must live ! " 

Charlotte Perkins Oilman. 

By permission of the Authok. 



VITAI LAMPADA 

There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night- 
Ten to make and the match to win — 
A bumping pitch and a blinding light, 
An hour to play and the last man in. 
And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat. 
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, 
But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote- 
" Play up! i)lay up ! and play the game! " 

The sand of the desert is sodden red — 
Red witli the wreck of a square that broke — 
The Gatling's jammed and the Colonel dead, 
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke. 
The river of death has brinuned his banks, 
And England's far, and Honor a name. 
But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks : 
" Play up ! play up ! and play the game ! " 
(296) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

This is the word that year by year, 

While in her place the School is set, 

Every one of her sons must hear, 

And none that hears it dare forget. 

This they all with a joyful mind 

Bear through life like a torch in flame, 

And falling fling to the host behind — 

" Play up ! play up ! and play the game ! " 

Henry Newbolt. 
By permission, Newbolt, Coi.lkcted Poems, Thomas Nelson ij Sons. 

EPILOGUE TO ASOLANDO (Selection) 

One who never turn'd his back but march*d breast for- 
ward, 
Never doubted clouds would break. 
Never dreami'd though right were worsted, wrong would 
triumph. 
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, 
Sleep to wake. 

No, at noonday in the bustle of man's work-time 

Greet the unseen with a cheer! 
Bid him forward, breast and back as either should be, 
"Strive and thrive! " cry " Speed — fight on, fare ever 
There as here ! " 

Robert Browning. 

PROSPICE (Selection) 

Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gain'd, 

The reward of it all. 
I was ever a fighter, so — one fight more, 

The best and the last ! 

(297) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

I would hate that deatli bandaged my eyes, and forbore, 

And bade me creep past. 
No ! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers, 

The heroes of old ; 
Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears 

Of pain, darkness and cold. 
For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave. 

The black minute's at end, 
And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave. 

Shall dwindle, shall blend. 
Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain. 

Then a light, then thy breast, 
O thou soul of my soul ! I shall clasp thee again, 

And with God be the rest ! 

RoBEET Browning. 



A PRAYER IN KHAKI 

Lord, my God, accept my prayer of thanks 
That Thou hast placed me humbly in the ranks 
Wliere I can do my part, all unafraid — 

A simple soldier in Thy great crusade. 

1 pray thee. Lord, let others take command ; 
Enough for me, a rifle in my hand. 

Thy blood-red banner ever leading me 
Where I can fight for liberty and Thee. 

Give others, God, the glory ; mine the right 
To stand beside my comrades in the fight : 
To die, if need be, in some foreign land — 
Absolved and solaced by a soldier's hand. 
(208) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

O Lord, my God, pray harken to my prayer, 

And keep me ever humble, keep me where 

The figilit is thickest, where, 'midst steel and flame. 

Thy sons give battle, calling on Thy name. 

RoBEET Garland. 
By permission, The Outlook. 

FAIR FIGHT 

Let me strike my foe down. 

If stricken he should be. 
Face to face in any place 

Of battle-bravery. 
Let our arms be equal. 

And never let me use 
Petty vantage-place or power 

To smite him from, in a dark hour — 
Rather let me lose. 

Cale Young Rice. 
By permission, Rice, TnAiiii Sunward, Century Co. 



IN THE DAY OF BATTLE 

In the day of battle, 
In the night of dread, 
Let one hymn be lifted. 
Let one prayer be said. 

Not for pride of conquest. 
Not for vengeance wrought; 
Not for peace and safety 
With dishonor bouglit ! 

(29U) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Praise for faith in freedom, 
Our fighting fathers' stay, 
Born of dreams and daring. 
Bred above dismay. 

Pray for cloudless vision 
And the valiant hand, 
That the right may triumph 
To the last demand. 

Bliss Carman. 
From Apeil Airs, by Bliss Carman, copyrighted 1916, reprinted by 
permission of the publishers, Small, Maynard ^ Co., Inc. 



THE WARRIOR'S PRAYER 

Long since, in sore distress, I heard one pray, 
" Lord, who prevailest with resistless might. 
Ever from war and strife keep me away, 
My battles fight ! " 

I know not if I play the Pharisee, 

And if my brother after all be right ; 
But mine shall be the warrior's plea to thee — 
Strength for the fight! 

I do not ask that thou shalt front the fray. 

And drive the warring f oeman from my sight ; 
I only ask, O Lord, by night, by day. 
Strength for the fight ! 

When foes upon me press, let me not quail 
Nor think to turn me into coward flight; 
I only ask, to make mine arms prevail. 
Strength for the fight ! 
(300) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

Still let mine eyes look ever on the foe, 

Still let mine armor case me strong and bright ; 
And grant me, as I deal each righteous blow, 
Strength for the fight ! 

And when, at eventide, the fray is done, 

My soul to Death's bedchamber do thou light, 
And give me, be the field or lost or won. 
Rest from the fight ! 

Paul Laurence Dunbar. 
By permission, Dunbar, Complete Poems, copyright 1899, by Dodd, 
Mead ^ Co. 

OPPORTUNITY 

This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream : — 

There spread a cloud of dust along a plain ; 

And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged 

A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords 

Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner 

Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. 

A craven hung along the battle's edge. 

And thought, " Had I a sword of keener steel — 

That blue blade that the king's son bears, — but this 

Blunt thing ! " he snapt and flung it from his hand. 

And lowering, crept away and left the field. 

Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead, 

And weaponless, and saw the broken sword, 

Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand. 

And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout 

Lifted afresh, he hewed his enemy down, 

And saved a great cause that heroic day. 

Edward Rowland Sill. 

By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifjlin Co., from Sill's Poetical Works. 
(301) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

KNIGHTHOOD 

(ToH.T. O.) 

In honor, chivalrous ; 

In duty, valorous ; 

In all things, noble ; 

To the heart's core, clean. 

Frederick George Scott. 
By permission, Scott, In the Battle Silekces, Musson Co. 



SIR GALAHAD 

My good blade carves the casques of men, 

My tough lance thinisteth sure. 

My strength is as the strength of ten, 

Because my heart is pure. 

The shattering trumpet shrilleth high. 

The hard brands shiver on the steel, 

The splintered spear shafts crack and fly, 

The horse and rider reel : 

They reel, they roll in clanging lists, 

And when the tide of combat stands. 

Perfume and flowers fall in showers, 

That lightly rain from ladies' hands. 

How sweet are looks that ladies bend 
On whom their favors fall ! 
For them I battle to the end, 
To save from shame and thrall ; 
But all my heart is drawn above, 
My knees are bowed in crypt and shrine : 
I never felt the kiss of love, 
Nor maiden's hand in mine. 
(302) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

More bounteous aspects on me beam, 
Me mightier transports nnove and thrill; 
So keep I fair through faith and prayer 
A virgin heart in work and will. 

Wlien down the stormy crescent goes, 

A light before me swims, 

Between dark stems the forest glows, 

I hear a noise of hymns ; 

Then by some secret shrine I ride; 

I hear a voice, but none are there; 

The stalls are void, the doors are wide. 

The tapers burning fair. 

Fair gleams the snowy altar cloth, 

The silver vessels sparkle clean, 

The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, 

And solemn chants resound between. 

Sometimes on lonely mountain meres, 

I find a magic bark ; 

I leap on board: no helmsman steers: 

I float till all is dark. 

A gentle sound, an awful light ! 

Three angels bear the Holy Grail! 

With folded feet, in stoles of white. 

On sleeping wings they sail. 

Ah, blessed vision ! Blood of God ! 

My spirit beats her mortal bars. 

As down dark tides the glory slides. 

And starlike mingles with the stars. 

When on my goodly charger borne 
Through gleaming towns I go. 
The cock crows ere the Christmas morn. 
The streets are dumb with snow. 
(303) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

The tempest crackles on the leads, 

And, ringing, springs from brand to mail ; 

But o'er the dark a glory spreads, 

And gilds the driving hail. 

I leave the plain, I climb the height ; 

No branchy thicket shelter yields ; 

But blessed forms in whistling storms 

Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields. 

A maiden Knight — to me is given 

Such hope, I know not fear ; 

I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven 

That often meet me here. 

I muse on joy that will not cease, 

Pure spaces clothed in living beams, 

Pure lihes of eternal peace. 

Whose odors haunt me in my dreams ; 

And stricken by an angel's hand. 

This mortal armor that I wear. 

This weight and size, this heart and eyes, 

Are touched, are turned to finest air. 

The clouds are broken in the sky, 
And through the mountain walls 
A rolling organ harmony 
Swells up, and shakes and falls. 
Then move the trees, the copses nod. 
Wings flutter, voices hover clear: 
" O just and faithful knight of God ! 
Ride on ! the prize is near." 
So passed I hostel, hall, and grange ; 
By bridge and ford, by park and pale. 
All armed I ride, whate'er betide. 
Until I find the Holy Grail. 

Tennyson. 

(304) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR 

Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he 

That every man in arms should wish to be ? 

It is the generous Spirit, who, * * * 

* * * doomed to go in company with Pain, 

And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train ! 

Turns his necessity to glorious gain ; 

In face of these doth exercise a power 

Which is our human nature's highest dower ; 

Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves 

Of their bad influence, and their good receives: 

By objects, which might force the soul to abate 

Her feeling, rendered more compassionate; 

Is placable — because occasions rise 

So often that demand such sacrifice ; 

More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure, 

As tempted more; more able to endure, 

As more exposed to suffering and distress; 

Thence, also, more alive to tenderness. 

— — — 'Tis he whose law is reason ; who depends 

Upon that law as on the best of friends ; 



And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law 
In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw; 
Or if an unexpected call succeed. 
Come when it will, is equal to the need : 

— He who, though thus endured as with a sense 

And faculty for storm and turbulence. 

Is yet a Soul whose master-bias leans 

To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes; 

w ^ ^ V iv 

20 (305) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Who, whether praise of him must walk the earth 
Forever, and to noble deeds give birth, 
Or he must fall, to sleep without his fame. 
And leave a dead unprofitable name — 
Finds comfort in himself and in his cause; 
And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws 
His breath in confidence of Heaven's applause : 
This is the happy Warrior ; this is He 
That every Man in arms should wish to be. 

William Wordsworth. 

WASHINGTON 

God wills no man a slave. The man most meek, 
Who saw Him face to face on Horeb's peak, 
Had slain a tyrant for a bondman's wrong. 
And met his Lord with sinless soul and strong. 
But when, years after, overf raught with care. 
His feet once trod doubt's pathway to despair. 
For that one treason lapse, the guiding hand 
Thac led so far now barred the promised land. 
God makes no man a slave, no doubter free ; 
Abiding faith alone wins liberty. 

No angel led our Chieftain's steps aright ; 
No pilot cloud by day, no flame by night ; 
No plague nor portent spake to foe or friend ; 
No doubt assailed him, faithful to the end. 

Weaklings there were, as in the tribes of old. 
Who craved for fleshpots, worshipped calves of gold. 
Murmured that right would harder be than wrong, 
And freedom's narrow road so steep and long; 
But he who ne'er on Sinai's summit trod 
Still walked the highest heights and spake with God; 

(306) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

Saw with anointed eyes no promised land 
By petty bounds or pettier cycles spanned, 
Its people curbed and broken to the ring, 
Backed with a caste and saddled with a King, — 
But freedom's heritage and training school, 
Where men unruled should learn to wisely rule, 
Till sun and moon should see at Ajalon 
King's heads in dust and freemen's feet thereon. 

His work well done, the leader stepped aside. 
Spurning a crown with more than kingly pride, 
Content to wear the higher crown of worth, 
While time endures. First Citizen of earth. 

James Jeffrey Roche. 



IS LIFE WORTH LIVING? " (Selection) 

IV 

Is life worth living? Yes, so long 
As there is wrong to right. 
Wail of the weak against the strong, 
Or tyranny to fight; 
Long as there lingers gloom to chase. 
Or streaming tear to dry. 
One kindred woe, one sorrowing face 
That smiles as we draw nigh ; 
Long as at tale of anguish swells 
The heart, and lids grow wet, 
And at the sound of Christmas bells 
We pardon and forget ; 
(307) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

So long as Faith with Freedom reigns, 

And loyal Hope survives, 

And gracious Charity remains 

To leaven lowly lives ; 

While there is one untrodden tract 

For Intellect or Will, 

And men are free to think and act. 

Life is worth living still. 

Alfred Austin. 
By permission, Austin, l'-NCii,isH Lvhks, Mavmilhn Co. 

ANOTHER CHANCE 

* * * A man whose soul is pure and strong, whose 

sword is bright and keen. 
Who knows the splendour of the fight and what its issues 

mean ; 
Who never takes one step aside, nor halts, though hope 

be dimi, 
But cleaves a pathway thro' the strife, and bids men 

follow him. 

No blot upon his stainless shield, no weakness in his arm ; 

No sign of trembling in his face to break his valour's 
charm : 

A man like this could stay the flight and lead the waver- 
ing line ; 

Ah! give me but a year of life — I'll make that glory 
mine! 

♦ #**** 

Henry Van Dyke. 

From Poems, copyric/ht 191:^, b\j Charles Scrihner's Sons. By per- 
mission of the publishers. 

(308), 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

LORD OF HIMSELF 

How happy is he bom or taught 

Who serveth not another's will; 
Whose armour is his honest thought, 

And simple truth his utmost skill ; 

Whose passions not his masters are ; 

Whose soul is still prepared for death — 
Not tied unto the world with care 

Of prince's ear or vulgar breath ; 

****** 

Who hath his ear from rumours freed; 

Whose conscience is his strong retreat ; 

Whose state can neither flatterers feed, 

Nor ruin make oppressors great : — 
****** 

This man is free from servile bands 

Of hope to rise or fear to fall: 
Lord of himself, though not of lands ; 

And, having nothing, yet hath all. 

Sir Henry Wotton (1568-1637). 



THE SEARCHLIGHTS 

Political morality differs from individual morality, because 
there is no power above the State. — General von Bernhardi. 

Shadow by shadow, stripped for fight 
The lean black cruisers search the sea. 

Night-long their level shafts of light 
Revolve, and find no enemy. 

Only they know each leaping wave 

May hide the lightning, and their grave. 
(309) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

And in the land they guard so well 

Is there no silent watch to keep? 
An age is dying, and the bell 

Rings midnight on a vaster deep. 
But over all its waves, once more 

The searchlights move, from shore to shore. 

And captains that we thought were dead, 
And dreamers that we thought were dumb, 

And voices that we thought were fled, 
Arise, and call us, and we come ; 

And " search in thine own soul," they cry ; 
" For there, too, lurks thine enemy." 

4|t V V ▼ V ▼ 

Not far, not far into the night, 

These level swords of light can pierce; 

Yet for her faith does England fight, 
Her faith in this our universe. 

Believing Truth and Justice draw 
From founts of everlasting law; 



Therefore a Power above the State, 
The unconquerable Power returns. 
The fire, the fire that made her great. 

Once more upon her altar bums, 
Once more, redeemed and healed and whole, 
She moves to the Eternal Goal. 

Alpbed Noyes. 
From The Lord of Misrule, copyright 1915, by Frederick A. 
Stokes Co. 



(310) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 



SEARCHLIGHTS 

The searchlights sweep the sombre skies, — 
Slow-wheeling, — focussed here and there, 
To catch the lurking treacheries 
Within their wide-flung whirling snare; 
And when they find the hidden foe 
The eager hunters lay him low. 

God's mightier beams are searching out 
The Soul of Life and lighting it. 
That His fair hosts may put to rout 
The foes that have been blighting it ; 
Sweep clean, O Lord, and beautify, 
And come Thou in and occupy t 

John Oxenham. 

From The Vision Splendid, John Oxenham,. 
Copyrisbt 1917, Geobge H. Ooban CotiPANr, Publishers. 



A TROOP OF THE GUARD RIDES FORTH 
TO-DAY 

There's trampling of hoofs in the busy street. 

There's clanking of sabres on floor and stair, 

There's sound of restless, hurrying feet. 

Of voices that whisper, of lips that entreat : 

Will they live, will they die, will they strive, will they 

dare? 
The houses are garlanded, flags flutter gay, 
For a Troop of the Guard rides forth to-day. 

(311) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Oh, the troopers will ride and their hearts will leap, 
When it's shoulder to shoulder and friend to friend — 
But it's some to the pinnacle, some to the deep. 
And some in the glow of their strength to sleep. 
And for all it's a fight to the tale's far end. 
And it's each to his goal, nor turn nor sway, 
When the Troop of the Guard rides forth to-day. 

The dawn is upon us, the pale light speeds 

To the zenith with glamour and golden dart. 

On, up ! Boot and Saddle ! Give spurs to your steeds ! 

There's a city beleaguered that cries for men's deeds, 

With the pain of the world in its cavernous heart. 

Ours be the triumph ! Hiunanity calls ! 

Life's not a dream in the clover! 

On to the walls, on to the walls. 

On to the walls and over! 

Old gods have fallen and the new must arise ! 

Out of the dust of doubt and broken creeds 

The sons of those who cast men's idols low 

Must build up for a hungry people's needs 

New gods, new hopes, new strength to toil and grow ; 

Knowing that naught that ever lived can die, — 

No act, no dream but spreads its sails, sublime. 

Sweeping across the visible seas of time 

Into the treasure-haven of eternity. 

* * * * «^ m 

The portals are open, the white road leads 
Through thicket and garden, o'er stone and sod. 
On, up I Boot and Saddle ! Give spurs to your steeds ! 
There's a city beleaguered that cries for men's deeds, 

(312) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

For the faith that is strength and the love that is God ! 
On through the dawning ! Humianity calls ! 
Life's not a dream in the clover ! 
On to the walls, on to the walls, 
On to the walls and over! 

Hermann Hagedorn. 
By permission, Drums and Fifes, The Vigilantes' Book, copyright 
1917, Geo. H. Dor an Co., publishers. 



SAY NOT THE STRUGGLE NOUGHT 
AVAILETH 

Say not the struggle nought availeth, 
The labour and the wounds are vain, 

The enemy faints not, nor faileth, 

And as things have been they remain. 

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars ; 
It may be, in yon smoke concealed. 
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers. 
And, but for you, possess the field. 

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, 
Seem here no painful inch to gain, 

Far back, through creeks and inlets making. 
Comes silent, flooding in, the main. 

And not by eastern windows only, 

When daylight comes, comes in the light ; 

In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly. 

But westward, look, the land is bright. 

Arthur Hugh Clough. 
By permission, Clough, Poems, Macmillan Co. 

(313) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 



ASPIRATION 

We never know how high we are 

Till we are called to rise; 
And then, if we are true to plan, 

Our statures touch the skies. 

The heroism we recite 

Would be a daily thing. 
Did not ourselves the cubits warp 

For fear to be a king. 

Emily Dickinson. 
By permission, Dickinson, Poems, copyright, Little, Brown 4- Co. 



VOLUNTARIES 



If once the generous chief arrive 
To lead him willing to be led. 
For freedom he wiU strike and strive. 
And drain his heart till he be dead. 



So nigh is grandeur to our dust. 
So near is God to man. 
When Duty whispers low, Thou must. 
The youth replies, / can. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co., from Emerson's Poems. 



(iiU) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

PRAYER DURING BATTLE 

Lord, in this hour of tumult, 

Lord, in this night of fears, 
Keep open, oh, keep open 

My eyes, ray ears. 

Not blindly, not in hatred, 
Lord, let me do my part. 
Keep open, oh, keep open 
My mind, my heart. 

Hekmann Hagedorn. 
By p«rm%»gion of the Author, from A Thoop of the Guahd. 



TO MILTON 

(London, 1802) 

Milton ! thou shouldst be living at this hour : 

England hath need of thee : she is a fen 

Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen. 

Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower. 

Have forfeited their ancient English dower 

Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; 

Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; 

And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. 

Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart : 

Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea : 

Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, 

So didst thou travel on life's common way, 

In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart 

The lowliest duties on herself did lay, 

William Wordsworth. 

(315) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

(From) " EACH IN HIS OWN TONGUE " 
A picket frozen on duty, 

A mother starved for her brood, 
Socrates drinking the hemlock. 

And Jesus on the rood ; 
And millions who, humble and nameless. 

The straight, hard pathway plod, — 
Some call it Consecration, 

And others call it God. 

William Herbert Carruth. 
By permission, Each in His Own Tongue, Q. P. Putnam's Sons. 

PEACE 

While wrong is wrong let no man prate of peace ! 

Hate wrong! Slay wrong! else mercy, justice, truth, 

Freedom and faith, shall die for humankind — 

Slay ! that His Law may live ! But, having slain, 

O seek the quiet places in your souls. 

The lonely shore of your Gennesaret, 

Your Mount of Olives, your Gethsemane, 

Where waits the Peace of God. 

William Samuel Johnson. 
Prom Buttadeus, The Foeum, London. 

O MAY I JOIN THE CHOIR INVISIBLE (Selection) 

'r^ V T^ V ^ TfP I 1 yr\ 

In pulses stirred to generosity. 

In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn 

Of miserable aims that end with self ; 

In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, 

And with their mild persistence urge men's minds 

To vaster issues. ^ _ 

George Eliot. 
(316) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

THE NEED FOR MEN 

God give us men ! The time demands 

Strong minds, great hearts, true faith and willing 

hands — 
Men whom the lust of office does not kill ; 
Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy; " 
Men who possess opinions and a will ; 
Men who have honor ; men who will not lie ; 
Men who can stand before a demagogue 
And damn his treacherous flatteries without winking; 
Tall men, sun-crowned, who live above the fog 
In public duty and in private thinking. 

For while the rabble with their thumb-worn creeds. 
Their large professions and their little deeds. 
Mingle in selfish strife, lo ! Freedom weeps ! 
Wrong rules the land, and waiting justice sleeps ! 

J. G. Holland. 

From Complete Poetical Writings, copyright 1907, by Charles 
Scribner's Sons. By permission of the publishers. 



WHAT CONSTITUTES A STATE.? 

What constitutes a State.? 
Not high-raised battlement or labored mound, 

Thick wall, or moated gate ; 
Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned; 

Not bays and broad-armed ports 
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride ; 

Not starred and spangled courts, 

Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride ; 

No : — MEN ! high-minded men. 

* « , « « « A 

(317) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Men who their duties know, 
But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain, 

Prevent the long-aimed blow, 
And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain: 

These constitute a State. 

****** 

Sir William Jones (1745-1794). 
AMERICA TO ENGLAND 
Mother of nations, of them eldest we, 
Well is it found, and happy for the state. 
When that which makes men proud first makes them 

great ; 
And such our fortune is who sprang from thee. 
And brought to this new land from over sea 
The faith that can with every household mate, 
And freedom whereof law is magistrate, 
And thoughts that make men brave and leave them free. 
O mother of our faith, our law, our lore, 
What shall we answer thee if thou shouldst ask 
How this fair birthright doth in us increase? 
There is no home, but Christ is at the door ; 
Freely our toiling millions choose life's task ; 
Justice we love, and next to justice, peace. 

Geoege Edwaed Woodbeeey. 
By permission, Woodberry, Poems, Maemillan Co. 

THE NEW POLITICIAN 

While others hedged, or silent lay. 
He to the people spoke all day ; 
Aye, and he said precisely what 
He thought ; each time he touched the spot. 
** In heaven's name, what does he mean ! 
iWas ever such blind fo^y seen ! " 
(318) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

The wag-beard politicians cried: 

" Can no one stop the man? " they sighed. 

" This * talking frankly ' may be fun, 
But when have such mad tactics won ? 
He may be happy, but the cost 
Is ours ! The whole election's lost ! " 
And still the people at his feet 
Followed and cheered from street to street. 
Truly this ne'er was known before : 
No soldier, sailor, orator, — 
No hero home from battle he 
Whom welcoming thousands rush to see ; 
But just a man who dared to take 
His stand on justice — make or break; 
'Twas all because the people found 
A man by no convention bound; 
Who sought to heal their black disgrace 
By treating rich and poor the same, 
Giving to crime its ugly name. 
Damning the guilty to their face. 
And when the votes at last were read, 
One candidate ran clear ahead ! 
This be his glory and renown : 
He told the truth — and took the town. 

Richard Watson Gildee. 

By 'permission of, and by special arrangement with, Hoitghton 
Mifflin Co. 

THE ATHENIAN BOY'S OATH 

I pledge to my city, to Athens most dear. 
Her laws to obey, her ideals revere. 

I'll be generous, just, not triumph by might. 
And hold in high honor the sacred, the right, 

(319) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

And reverence for duty aid to instil 

That deeds of high purpose her records may fill. 

To Athens I pledge my honor, my all, 

And support her ideals, with my life, at her call. 

On her Past so splendid our Present must gain ; 
Only thus can her Future full glory attain. 

O better and greater through me may She be ! 

More beauty, more glory, dear Athens, to Thee ! 

Maby Morris.) 
By permission af the Authoe. "" 



THE NEW CITY 

Have we seen her. The New City, O my brothers, where 

she stands. 
The superb, supreme creation of unnumbered human 

hands : 
The complete and sweet expression of unnumbered 

human souls. 
Bound by love to work together while their love their 

work controls ; 
Built by brothers for their brothers, kept by sisters for 

their mates. 
Garlanded by happy children playing free within the 

gates, 
Brooded by such mighty mothers as are born to lift 

us up 
Till we drink in full communion of God's wondrous 

" loving cup " 
Clean and sightly are her pavements ringing sound 

beneath men's feet, 

(320) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

Wide and ample are her forums where her citizens may 

meet, 
Fair and precious are her gardens where her youths and 

maidens dance 
In the fresh, pure air of Heaven, 'mid the flowers' 

extravagance. 
And her schools are as the ladders to the Spirit, from 

the Clay, 
Leading, round by round, to labor, strengthened side by 

side, by play. 
And her teachers are her bravest, and her governors her 

best. 
For she loves the little children she has nourished at her 

breast. 
Never clangor of the trumpet, nor the hiss of bullets mad 
Breaks the music of her fountains, plashing seaward, 

flashing glad. 
For no excess and no squalor mark her fruitful, fair 

increase 

She has wrought life's final glory in a miracle of peace, 
And her citizens live justly, without gluttony or need. 
And he strives to serve the city who has bread enough 

to feed 
All his own, and she must labor, who would hold an 

honored place 
With the women of the city in their dignity and grace. 
Have ye seen her, O my brothers. The New City, where 

each hour 
Is a poet's revelation, or a hero's perfect power. 
Or an artist's new creation, or a laborer's new strength. 
Where a world of aspiration clings God by the feet, at 

length? 

21 (321)' 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Have ye seen her, The New City, in her glory? Ah, 

not yet 
Gilds the sun with actual splendor chimney top and 

minaret. 
But her site is surely purchased and her pattern is 

designed. 
And her blessed ways are visions for all striving 

humankind ! 
The New City, O my brothers, we ourselves shall never 

see — 
She will gladden children's children into holy ecstasy — 
Let our lives be in the building! We shall lay us in 

the sod. 
Happier, if our human travail builds their avenues to 

Crod, Marguerite O. B. WiiiKiNsoN. 

By permission, The Independent. 

THE BRIDGE BUILDERS 

They have builded magnificent bridges 

Where the nation's highways go ; 
O'er perilous mountain ridges 
And where great rivers flow. 
Wherever a link was needed between the new and the 

known 
They have left their marks of Progress, in iron and steel 
and stone. 

There was never a land too distant, 

Nor ever a way too wide. 

But some man's mind, insistent. 

Reached out to the other side. 

They cleared the way, these heroes, for the march of 

future years. 

The march was Civilization — and they were its Pioneers. 

(322) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

Now, through a nation's sinning, 

They are building a bridge so wide 
That those at the work's beginning 
Scarce dreamed of the other side. 
They spared no thought for a future with the need for 

" now " so plain ; 
They sowed for others' reaping — they have died for 
others' gain. 

And what has gone to the making? 

Courage and sacrifice, 
And a thirst that knows no slaking 
For the Right at any price ; 
Comradeship caring nothing for riches or rank or birth, 
For builders like these build only with things of eternal 
worth. 

Be comforted, wives and mothers ! 

Your men, in their splendid youth. 
With a thousand thousand others 
Have opened the way for Truth. 
They are building into a future where terror and strife 

shall cease; 
And the span of the bridgie is Honor, and the goal that it 
leads to — Peace. 

Evelyn Simms. 

The BookmaNj London. 



(323) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 
THE PRESENT CRISIS 

When a deed is done for Freedom, through the broad 

earth's aching breast 
Runs a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on from East 

to West ; 
And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul within 

him climb 
To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy sublime 
Of a century bursts full blossomed on the thorny stem of 

Time. 

Once, to every man and nation, comes the moment to 

decide. 
In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or 

evil side; 
Some great cause, God's new Messiah, offering each the 

bloom or blight, 
Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon 

the right, — 
And the choice goes hy forever 'twixt that darkness and 

that light. 

Hast thou chosen, O my people, in whose party thou shalt 

stand. 
Ere the Doomi from its worn sandals shakes the dust 

against our land? 
Though the cause of Evil prosper, yet 'tis Truth alone is 

strong ; 
And albeit she wander outcast now, I see around her 

throng 
Troops of beautiful, tall angels, to enshield her from all 

wrong. 

(324) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

We see dimly, in the Present, what is small and what is 
great ; 

Slow of faith, how weak an arm may turn the iron helm 
of Fate; 

But the soul is still oracular, — amid the market's din, 

List the ominous stern whisper from the Delphic cave 
within : 

" TJuy enslave their childrerCs children, who make com- 
promise with Sin! " 

fl|c ifp ^ ifr V V 

New occasions teach new duties! Time makes ancient 
good uncouth ; 

They must upward still, and onward, who would keep 
abreast of Truth. 

Lo ! before us gleam the campfires ! we ourselves must 
Pilgrims be, 

Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the 
desperate winter sea, 

Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood- 
rusted key. 

James Russell Lowell. 

By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
lin Co., from Lowell's Poems. 



FOURTH OF JULY ODE 
I 

Our fathers fought for liberty ; 
They struggled long and well, 
History of their deeds can tell — 
But did they leave us free.? 
(325) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

II 

Are we free from vanity, 
Free from pride, and free from self. 
Free from love of power and pelf, 
From everything that's beggarly? 

Ill 

Are we free from stubborn will, 
From low hate and malice small, 
From opinion's tyrant thrall? 
Are none of us our own slaves still? 

IV 

Are we free to speak our thought, 
To be happy, and be poor. 
Free to enter Heaven's door. 
To live and labor as we ought ? 

V 
Are we, then, made free at last 
From the fear of what men say, 
Free to reverence To-day, 
Free from the slavery of the Past? 

VI 

Our fathers fought for liberty ; 
They struggled long and well, 
History of their deeds can teU — 
But ourselves must set us free. 

James Russell Lowet t.. 
By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co., from Lowell's Poems. 

(326) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

THE SLAVE 

They set the slave free, striking off his chains . . 
Then he was as much of a slave as ever. 

He was still chained to servility; 

He was still manacled to indolence and sloth; 

He was still bound by fear and superstition, 

By ignorance, suspicion, and savagery 

His slavery was not in the chains, 

But in himself. * * * 

They can only set free men free ... 

And there is no need of that: 

Free men set themselves free. 

James Oppenheim. 
By permission, Oppenheim, Songs foe a New Age, Century Co. 



WE ARE BRETHREN A' 

A happy bit hame this auld world would be 

If men, when they're here, could make shift to agree, 

An' ilk said to his neighbor, in cottage an' ha', 

" Come, gi'e me your hand, — we are brethren a'." 

I ken na' why ane wi' anither should fight, 
When to 'gree would make ae body cosie an' right ; 
When man meets wi' man, 'tis the best way av a' 
To say, " Gi'e me your hand, — we are brethren a\" 

My coat is a coarse ane, an' yours may be fine. 
And I maun drink water, while you may drink wine ; 
But we baith ha'e a leal heart, unspotted to shaw: 
Sae gi'e me your hand, — we are brethren a'. 

(327) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

The knave ye would scorn, the unf aithfu' deride ; 
Ye would stand like a rock, wi' the truth on your side; 
Sae would I, an* naught else would I value a straw: 
Then gi'e me your hand, — we are brethren a'. 

Ye would scorn to do falsely by woman or man ; 
I hand by the right aye, as weel as I can ; 
We are ane in our joys, our affections, an' a'; 
Come, gi'e me your hand, — we are brethren a'. 

ROBEET NiCOLL (1814-1837). 

ARMAGEDDON 
(A War Song of the Future) 

Marching down to Armageddon, 

Brothers stout and strong. 

Let us cheer the way we tread on 

With a soldier's song ! 

Faint we by the weary road, 

Or fall we in the rout. 

Dirge or paean, death or triumph ! — 

Let the song ring out! 

We are they who scorn the scorners. 

Love the good, but hate 

None within the world's four corners — 

All must share one fate. 

We are they whose common banner 

Bears no badge or sign. 

Save the Light which dyes it white. 

The Hope that makes it shine. 

We are they whose bugle rings, 
That all the wars may cease; 
We are they will pay the kings 
Their cruel price for peace; 
(328) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

We are they whose steadfast watchword 
Is what Christ did teach — 
" Each man for his brother first, 
And heaven, then, for each." 

We are they who will not falter — 

Many swords or few — 

Till we make this earth the altar 

Of a worship new ; 

We are they who will not take 

From palace, hut, or code, 

A meaner law than " brotherhood," 

A lower Lord than God. 

Marching down to Armageddon, 
Brothers stout and strong. 
Ask not why the way we tread on 
Is so rough and long. 
God will tell us when our spirits 
Grow to grasp His plan : 
Let us do our part to-day, 
And obey Him, helping man ! 

We are they whose unpaid legions. 

Strong in ranks arrayed. 

Fiercely faced in many regions. 

Never once were stayed; 

We are they whose firm battalions. 

Trained to fight, not fly. 

Know the cause of good will triumph. 

It will triumph though we die ! 

****** 

Edwin Arnold. 
Poetical Works, John Wilson ^ Son, London. 

(329) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 



WHERE ARE YOU GOING, GREAT-HEART? 

Where are you going, Great-Heart, 
With your eager face and your fiery grace? — 
Where are you going, Great-Heart? 

" To fight a fight with all my might ; 
For Truth and Justice, God and Right ; 
To grace all Life with His fair Light." 
Then God go with you, Great-Heart! 

Where are you going, Great-Heart? 
" To live To-day above the Past ; 
To make To-morrow sure and fast; 
To nail God's colors to the mast." 
Then God go with you, Great-Heart! 

Where are you going, Great-Heart? 
" To break down old dividing lines ; 
To carry out my Lord's designs ; 
To build again his broken shrines." 
Then God go with you, Great-Heart! 

Where are you going, Great-Heart? 
" To set all burdened peoples free ; 
To win for all God's liberty ; 
To 'stablish His Sweet Sovereignty." 
God goeth with you, Great-Heart! 

John Oxenham. 

The Vision Splendid, by John Oxenham. 
Copyright 1917, George H. Doean Company, PublisLera. 



(330) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

TO WHOM SHALL THE WORLD HENCEFORTH 
BELONG? 

To whom shall the world henceforth belong. 
And who shall go up and possess it 9 

To the Great-Hearts — the Strong 

Who will suffer no wrong, 

And where they find evil redress it. 

To the men of Bold Light 

Whose souls seized of Light, 

Found a work to be done and have done it. 

To the Valiant who fought 
For a soul-lifting thought, 
Saw the fight to be won and have won it. 

To the Men of Great Mind 

Set on lifting their kind, 

Who, regardless of danger, will do it. 

To the Men of Good-will, 

Who would cure all Life's ill, 

And whose passion for peace will ensue it. 

To the Men who will bear 

Their full share of Life's care. 

And will rest not till wrongs be all righted. 

To the Stalwarts who toil 
'Mid the seas of turmoil, 
Till the haven of safety be sighted. 

(331) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

To the Men of Good Fame 
Who everything claim — 

This world and the next — in their Master's great 
name, — 

To these shall the world henceforth belong, 
And they shall go up and possess it ; 
Overmuch, o'erlong, has the world suffered wrong. 
We are here by God's help to redress it. 

John Oxenham. 

The Fieey ChosSj John. Oxenham, 

Copyright 1918, Geobgb H. Doran Compant, Publishers. 

RIGHT AND RIGHTS 

If every man did right 

No man would have to fight 

For his own rights 'mid all the other wrongs and rights 

of life ; 
His rights would be his right, 
And no man then would fight 
For that which was his own 'mid all the other rights 

of life. 
If onlj^ — only — only — 
Every man did right, 
No more would life be strife, 
But just one long, bright, infinite. 
Pure vista of delight, — 
If only — only — only 
Every man did right. 

John Oxenham. 
The Vision Spi^ndid, by John Oxenham. 
Copyright 1917, Geobge H. Doran Compant, Publishers. 



(382) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

THE NEW-YEAR 

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky. 
The flying cloud, the frosty light : 
The year is dying in the night ; 

Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. 

****** 

Ring out the grief that saps the mind, 
For those that here we see no more ; 
Ring out the feud of rich and poor, 

Ring in redress to all mankind. 

Ring out a slowly dying cause. 

And ancient forms of party strife; 

Ring in the nobler modes of life, 
With sweeter manners, purer laws. 
Ring out the want, the care, the sin. 

The faithless coldness of the times ; 

Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, 
But ring the fuller minstrel in. 

Ring out false pride in place and blood, 

The civic slander and the spite ; 

Ring in the love of truth and right. 
Ring in the common love of good. 

Ring out old shapes of foul disease ; 

Ring out the narrowing lust of gold ; 

Ring out the thousand wars of old ; 
Ring in the thousand years of peace. 

Ring in the valiant man and free. 
The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; 
Ring out the darkness of the land. 

Ring in the Christ that is to be. 

Tennyson. 

(333) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 
DEAR LAND OF ALL MY LOVE 



Long as thine Art shall love true love, 
Long as thy Science truth shall know, 
Long as thine Eagle harms no Dove, 
Long as thy Law by law shall grow, 
Long as thy God is God above, 
Thy brother every man below. 
So long, dear Land of all my love, 
Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall glow ! 

Sidney Lanier. 
From Poems, copyright I884, 1891, by Charles Scribner's Sons. 
Used by permission of the publishers. 



DEMOCRACY 

Our might}^ bark, with masts that rake the stars, 
Has lagged too long in port, and we have drowsed 
An idle crew or with wild mates caroused. 

Forgetful of our part in Freedom's wars. 

But now, at last, with sail taut to the spars. 
For her whose rightful cause our sires espoused. 
Again our ship must steer where bloAv unhoused 

The winds of God, beyond the shoals and bars. 

For still our orders hold as in the past, — 
That glorious day we shook our banner free, 
And broke from out the line and took the van, 

With linstocks lit, and bade them follow fast 

Who held with us, — to sail and search the sea 

Until we find a better world for man. 

William Prescott Foster. 
By permission, The Atlantic Monthly. 

(334) 



THE TRUE PATRIOT 

THE CHOICE 

The American Spirit Speaks: 

To the Judge of Right and Wrong 

With Whom fulfilment lies 
Our purpose and our power belong. 

Our faith and sacrifice. 

Let Freedom's land rejoice! 

Our ancient bonds are riven; 
Once more to us the eternal choice 

Of giood or ill is given. 
Not at a little cost, 

Hardly by prayer or tears, 
Shall we recover the road we lost 

In the drugged and doubting years. 

But after the fires and the wrath. 

But after searching and pain. 
His Mercy opens us a path 

To live with ourselves again. 

In the Gates of Death rejoice! 

We see and hold the good — 
Bear witness. Earth, we have made our choice 

For Freedom's brotherhood. 

Then praise the Lord Most High 

Whose Strength hath saved us whole. 

Who bade us choose that the Flesh should die 
And not the living Soul ! 

RuDYAKD Kipling 
By permission, A. P. Watt ^ Son, London. 
Prom The Yeabs Between, Doubleday, Page ^ Co. 

(335) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 
BROTHERHOOD 

The crest and crowning of all g'ood, 
Life's final star, is Brotherhood ; 
For it will bring again to Earth 
Her long-lost Poesy and Mirth; 
Will send new light on every face, 
A kingly power upon the race. 
And till it come, we men are slaves. 
And travel downward to the dust of graves. 

Come, clear the way, then, clear the way : 
Blind creeds and kings have had their day. 
Break the dead branches from the path : 
Our hope is in the aftermath — 
Our hope is in heroic men, 
Star-led to build the world again. 
To this Event the ages ran. 
Make way for Brotherhood — make way for Man. 

Edwin Maekham. 
By permission of the Author, from The Man With the Hoe axd 
Otheh Poems. 



(336) 



BRIEF QUOTATIONS 



22 



There are many interesting ways of using such short quotations, as the fol- 
lowing: 1. Match games may be played, the students matching one another 
either by alternately giving such quotations or by completing a selection for 
which another has given the sentiment, or the first line. 2. Similar quotations 
may be prepared from the body of this book. 3. Many of the heroic incidents 
of the recent war may be " matched up " with quotations included here. 
4. Watchwords of this and earlier wars, such as Patrick Henry's "Give me 
liberty or give me death," and Haig's "Our backs are against the wall," may 
be versified and added to this collection. 5. The students may make a 
collection of watchwords for civil as well as military life. 6. Some of the 
shorter quotations may be used as subjects for class debates. 



(338) 



BRIEF QUOTATIONS 

Let all the ends, the ends thou aimst at, be thy country's. 
Thy God's and Truth's. 

Shakespeare. {Henry VI 11.) 



" What pity is it 
That we can die but once to save our country ! 

* * * * 1ft 

Thy life is not thy own, when Rome demands it." 
Joseph Addison. (Cato.) 



Their country first, their glory and their pride ; 
Land of their hopes, land where their fathers died ; 
When in the right, they'll keep their honor bright ; 
When in the wrong, they'll die to set it right. 

James T. Fields. (Their Country.) 
By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co. 



Let piping swain, and craven wight, 

Thus weep and puling cry; 
Our business is like men to fight. 

And hero-like to die ! 
William Motherwell. {The Cavalier's Song.) 



What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted ! 
Thrice is he armed that has his quarrel just; 
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel. 
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. 

William Shakespeare. {King Henry VI.) 
(339) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

A thought will hit when a shot will stray, 
A thought will stand when a fort gives way, 
A thought will feed when no bread is nigh, 
A thought will live when a man will die. 
McLandburgh Wilson. (The Army of Thoughts.) 



For I trust, if an enemy's fleet came yonder round by 

the hill, 
And the rushing battle-bolt sang from the three-decker 

out of the foam. 
That the smooth-faced, snub-nosed rogue wonld leap 

from his counter and till. 
And strike, if he could, were it but with his cheating 

yard-wand, home. 

Tennyson. 



Enough if something from our hand have power 
To live and act and serve the future hour; 

And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, 
Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent 
dower, 
We feel that we are greater than we know. 

William Wordsworth. {After-Thought.) 



Write on your doors the saying wise and old, 
" Be bold ! be bold ! " and everywhere, " Be bold ; 
Be not too bold ! " Yet better the excess 
Than the defect ; better the more than less ; 
Better like Hector in the field to die. 
Than like a perfumed Paris turn and fly. 

Longfellow. {Morituri Salutamus.) 
By 'permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mi^in Co. 

(340) 



BRIEF QUOTATIONS 

Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime ; 

And, departing, leave behind us 

Footprints on the sands of time; — 

Footprints, that perhaps another, 
Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 
Seeing, shall take heart again. 

Let us, then, be up and doing. 

With a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 

Learn to labor and to wait. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. {Psalm of Life. ) 
By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mlfjlin Co. 



Let others write of battles fought 

On bloody, ghastly fields. 
Where honors greet the man who wins, 

And death the man who yields ; 
But I will write of him who fights 

And vanquishes his sins. 
Who struggles on through weary years 

Against himself and wins. 

Caroline Le Row. {True Heroism.) 



The inextinguishable spark, which fires 
The soul of patriots. 

R. Glover. {Leonidas.) 

(341) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

O ye loud waves ! and O ye forests high ! 

And O ye douds that far above me soared ! 
Thou rising sun ! thou blue rejoicing sky ! 
Yea, every thing that is and will be free ! 
Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be. 
With what deep worship I have still adored 
The spirit of divinest Liberty. 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge. (France.) 



'Tis not in blood that Liberty inscribes her civil laws. 
She writes them on the people's heart in language clear 

and plain ; 
True thoughts have moved the world before, and so they 

shall again. 

We yield to none in earnest love of freedom's cause 

sublime ; 
We join the cry, " Fraternity ! ", we keep the march of 

Time. 
Charles Mackay. (True Freedom and How to Gain It.) 



A! Fredome is a noble thing! 
Fredome mayse man to haif liking; 
Fredome all solace to man giffs. 
He livis at ese that f rely livis ! 

John Barbour. (Freedom.) 



For Freedom's battle once begun. 
Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, 
Though baffled oft is ever won. 

Lord Byron. (The Giaour.) 

(342) 



BRIEF QUOTATIONS 

" That humble, simply duty of the day 

Perform," he bids ; " ask not if small or great : 

Serve in thy post ; be faithful and obey ; 

Who sei-ves her truly, sometimes saves the State." 

Aethub. Hugh Clough. (Wellington.) 
By permission, Macmillan Co. 



Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife ! 

To all the sensual world proclaim, 
One crowded hour of glorious life 

Is worth an age without a name. 
Sir Walter Scott. {Old Mortality.) 



Rest they well, the invincible dead, 
Ships' captains and companies bold. 
For the ocean itself is their bier 

And the continents stones at their head. 

Wallace Rice. 
By permission, Richard Haklutt's Mek. 



Clime of the unforgotten brave ! 

Whose land, from plain to mountain-cave, 

Was Freedom's home or Glory's grave ! 

Lord Byron. (The Giaour.) 



Nought nobler is, than to be free ; 
The stars of heaven are free because 
In amplitude of liberty 
Their joy is to obey the laws. 
William Watson. (The Things That are More Ex- 
cellent. ) 
By permission, John Lane Co. 

(343) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Nay, let them die and pass and be forgot, 
Our grief die, and our wrath, but perish not 
The justice-loving, the crusading heart. 
This will of youth to take the righteous part. 
So youth shall pass through death and still live on. 
John Erskine. (Youth Dying.) 
By permission. The Shadowed HouRj Lyric Publishing Co. 



For eastward lies the enemy. 
And westward shines the sea ; 

And west to east the men march on 

To keep their homeland free. 

P. B. Lyon. (The Road: A Memory of 1915.) 
By permission, Erskine Macdonald, London. 



How sure the bolt that Justice wings; 
How weak the arm a traitor brings ; 
How mighty they, who steadfast stand 
For Freedom*s Flag and Freedomi's Land ! 
Bayard Taylor. (To the American People.) 
By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co. 



The eagle's song: 
" To be stanch, and valiant, and free, and strong ! 

Richard Mansfield. 
(344) 



BRIEF QUOTATIONS 

In half a hundred weary lands 

Their bones forever lie, 
But every soldier spirit stands 
To see the Flag go by. 
Jesse Edgar Middleton. (A Song of the Flag.) 
By permission, Sea Dogs and Men-at-ArmSj G. P. Putnam's Sons. 



SEA DOGS AND MEN AT ARMS 

My voice is still for war. 
Gods ! Can a Roman senate long debate 
Which of the two to choose, slavery or death? 
Addison. (Cato on the Death of His Son.) 



You whom the fathers made free and defended, 

Stain not the scroll that emblazons their fame ! 
You whose fair heritage spotless descended, 
Leave not your children a birthright of shame ! 
Oliver Wendell Holmes. (Never or Now.) 
By fermission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co. 



God, that made our fathers strong, 
Lead us when the dangers throng ; 
God, that made our mothers pure, 
Make us steadfast to endure! 
On the wave or tented field 
Be our sword and battle shield. 
J. Laurence Rentoul. {Australia's Battle Hymn.) 



Duty's claim and country's call 
Shall be conscience for us all ! 
J. Laurence Rentoul. {Australia's Battle Hymn.) 

(345) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman 
Was greater than a king ! And once again — 
Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread 
Of either Brutus ! — once again, I swear. 
The eternal city shall be free ! 

Mary Russell Mitford. (Rienzi.) 



We need the faith to go a path untrod, 
The power to be alone and vote with God. 
Markham. (The Need of the Hour, Lincoln and Other 
Poems. ) 



England, with all thy faults, I love thee still, — 
My country ! and, while yet a nook is left 
Where English minds and manners may be found, 
Shall be constrained to love thee. 

William Cowper. (The Timepiece.) 



With the clustered stars and the steadfast bars 
The red, the white and the blue. 

Margaret E. Sangster. 



Give us a man of God's own mould. 

Born to miarshal his fellow-men ; 
One whose fame is not bought and sold 

At the stroke of a politician's pen. 

Edmund Clarence Stedman. (Wanted — A Man.) 
By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 
Mifflin Co. 

(346) 



BRIEF QUOTATIONS 

No ! Freedom has a thousand charms to show, 
That slaves, howe'er contented, never know. 
****** 

Religion, virtue, truth — whate'er we call 
A blessing — Freedom is the pledge of all. 

W. CowPER. {Table Talk.) 



The traitor to Humanity is the traitor most accursed ; 
Man is more than Constitutions ; better rot beneath the 

sod 
Than be true to Church and State while we are doubly 

false to God. 
J. R. Lowell. (On the Capture of Certain Fugitive 

Slaves near Washington.) 
By permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton 

Mifflin Co. 



Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying. 
Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind. 

LoED Byron. (Childe Harold.) 



This England never did, nor never shall — 
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. 

Come the three corners of the world in arms. 

And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, 

If England to itself do rest but true. 

Shakespeare. {King John.) 

(347) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

Whenever the weak and weary are ridden doAvn by the 
strong, 

Whenever the voice of honor is drowned by the howling 
throng, 

Whenever the right pleads clearly while the lords of life 
are dumb. 

The times of forbearance are over and the time to strike 
is come. 

WiLLLiAM Herbert Carruth. 

By permission, Carruth, Each in His Own Tongue, G. P. Put- 
nam's Sons. 



O blest are the lovers and friends who shall live 

The days of thy glory to see ! 
But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give 

Is the pride of thus dying for thee. 

Thomas Moore. (Pro P atria Mori.) 



" Each of the heroes around us has fought for his land 

and line, 
But thoii hast fought for a stranger, in hate of a wrong 

not thine. 

" Happy are all free peoples too strong to be dispos- 
sessed; 

But blessed are those among nations who dare to be 
strong for the rest ! " 
Elizabeth Barrett Browning. (A Court Lady.) 



(348) 



NOTES 



NOTES 



NOTES 

PAGE 

3 Tommy Toujours Qai. Literally, this title means Tommy always gay. 

8 Heroes. The New York Tribune also describes one soldier from the 

Tuscania who swam up to an already overloaded boat, and at 

the protest of the occupants swam away, singing cheerily, "O, 

boy, where do we go from here?" 

14 Home is Where the Pie Is. The French noim abri means a shelter, 

a place of concealment. 
18 The Old Kings. Ragnarok, in Scandinavian mythology, means the 
tioilight of the Gods, or the day of doom. 

20 Pershing at the Tomb of Lafayette. This poem refers to our in- 

debtedness to France, including Lafayette, for aid rendered us 
during the American Revolution. 

2 1 The Salutation. The ancient Saxon salutation was waes hael, meaning 

Be well, or Health to you I The phrase developed later into wassail, 
a kind of drink. Trink haile, similarly, means to drink to ones 
health. ^'1!^ 

22 Wireless. Kiel means the Kiel canal used as a harbor by the 

German warships. 

23 I Wonder What Cervera Thought. Cervera, the Spanish naval com- 

mander, was shut up in the harbor of Santiago, May, 1898, by 
the Americans. He risked everything in an effort to bring his 
ships out but was captured. 

24 The White Ships and the Red. This refers to the sinking of the 

Lusitania, May 7, 1915. 

31 Vive La France. This title means Z^wj/ fee froncc. 

38 Last Christmas in the Holy Land. Centuries ago many crusades 
were undertaken to wrest Jerusalem from Turkish control. But 
Jerusalem, sacred alike to Jew, Catholic and Protestant, did not 
become free imtil 1918, when the English forces took Palestine. 

41 Men of the North. While in Baltimore, Neal of Maine wrote this 
Revolutionary appeal to the men of his section of the country. 

43 The Reveille. The word Reveille means an awakening. 

60 To a Hero. The Holy Grail is the cup (or dish) used by Christ at the 

Last Supper. According to the legend, Joseph of Arimathea 
preserved in it some of Christ's blood shed at the time of the 
crucifixion. It was brought to England, but disappeared. The 
adventiu"es of the Knights of the Roimd Table center around 
the Grail. Many of the knights caught sight of it, but only 
the pure in heart and holy in conduct could ever hope to 
secure it. 

61 Marco Bozzaris. Marco Bozzaris and the other Suliotes (or Greek 

Albanians) long held their own against the Turks. Plataea was 
an ancient city near which the Greeks had defeated the Persians, 
, 479 B. c. 

(351) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

63 The Greeks at Thermopylae. For three whole days, Leonidas with 
300 Spartans and 700 Thespians held back the whole Persian 
army. Then, betrayed by a countryman, they fought so bitterly 
that but one Greek ever returned home. 

63 Horatius at the Bridge. Janiculum (Gianicolo) is a hillin Rome on 
the right bank of the Tiber. Ramnes means a member of the 
Ramnes, one of the three ancient tribes of Rome. Lucumo is a 
term applied to the heads of noble or patrician families. Pal- 
atinus is one of the "seven hills of Rome." 

7 1 Drake's Drum. In England Hoe is still used in some proper names 
to indicate a low hill; e.g., Plymouth Hoe. 

73 Immortality. This poem is a tribute to the Sir Philip Sydney who 

"flung away his life to save the English army in Flanders," 
when Elizabeth sent a small force to aid the Netherlands in 
their war with Spain. When dying, he passed the cup of water 
intended for his fevered lips to a common soldier lying on the 
ground beside him, saying, "Thy necessity is greater than mine." 

74 Bonny Dundee. John Graham, known as Bloody Claver'se to his 

enemies and Bonny Dundee to his friends, is here described 
leaving the Scottish convention of 1688-89. He died in 1689 
defending the king, James II. Mons Meg is a huge gun forming 
part of the Argyll battery, near St. Margaret's chapel in Edin- 
burgh. 

76 Qillespie. Vellore is a fortified town 15 miles west of Arcot, Madras 
district, India. 

78 Santa Filomena. The lady with the lamp was Florence Nightingale, 
pioneer nurse of the Crimean War, 1853-56. 

89 Mollie Pitcher. On June 28, 1778, this sturdy Irish woman, who 

was acting as water carrier for her husband, served his gun 
during the rest of the attack. 

90 Defeat and Victory. Wounded early in the battle of June 1, 1813, 

Lawrence kept cheering his men on, crying, "Keep the guns 
going! Fight her till she strikes or sinks! Don't give up the ship! " 
93 Sheridan's Ride. Returning from Washington via Winchester, on 
October 18, 1864, Sheridan heard the sounds of battle, and 
reached his men just in time to turn defeat into victory. 

100 Little Giffen. Though very seriously wounded. Little Giffen was 
nursed back to health by Dr. Francis O. Ticknor, in his own 
home. Little Giffen fell later in a battle before Atlanta. 

102 Wheeler at Santiago. An episode of the Spanish- American War. 
Owing to the nature of the country, the cavalry had to go 
into battle on foot. Though suffering from fever. General 
Wheeler insisted on going with his command, if he had "to be 
carried on a cot." 

105 The Ballad of Lieutenant Miles. One of the incidents of the battle of 
February 5, 1899, that completed the rout of the Philippine army. 

110 Mr. Valiant Passes Over. Here Roosevelt is likened to Mr. Valiant- 

for-Truth, in Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, who fought three to 

one, undismayed by the great odds, crying only to his King for 

help; for he knew He could hear and "afford invisible help." 

(352) 



NOTES 

116 The Maid of Eclusier. Sentenced to be shot, Marcelle was placed 

against a wall, but before the order could be given to the firing 
squad, a shell from the French guns fell into the courtyard, 
and Marcelle escaped, hiding in the underground passage, where 
she had hidden the soldiers. After the French retook Eclusier, 
Marcelle led squad after squad in safe routes through the bog- 
lands. Captured and shutjup in the church at Frise, she was again 
unexpectedly liberated by a French shell,which struck the church. 

117 Babushka. This word means Little grandmother, and is a tribute 

to Madame Breshkovsky. 

121 Cadorna's Retreat. One of the black periods of the recent war, 
though now it only emphasizes the almost unbelievable achieve- 
ments of the Italian army, in the year preceding and the year 
following this retreat. 

123 Ivry. The battle of Ivry was fought in 1590, when Henry of 
Navarre (afterwards Henry IV of France) triumphed over the 
Duke of Mayerme. 

127 Verdun. The French password was lis ne passeront pas. They shall 
not pass. 

135 Song of the Western Men. The Archbishop of Canterbury and six 
other bishops were imprisoned in the Tower, in the hot fight 
over "liberty of conscience," 1688. Their acquittal ten months 
later met with wild enthusiasm throughout the country. Writ- 
ten about 1826, this ballad deceived even Scott and Dickens, 
who thought it an old ballad. 

147 The Charge of the Light Brigade. Through a mistake, about six 
hundred cavalrymen were launched against the whole Russian 
army. This brigade galloped one and one-half miles down the 
valley under murderous fire, broke into a battery at the front, 
sabering the gimners, cut their way through a dense column 
of infantry, re-formed, burst their way through the Russians, 
heading them off, and galloped back to their old position, with 
a loss of nearly half of their men. 

134 Edinburgh after Flodden. This battle (September 9, 1513) was won 
by the English, mainly because the Scotch king, James IV, 
refused to retain his former advantageous position, deeming 
it unchivalrous. Forming a ring around their king, the Scots 
fought to the death. 

151 The Defense of Lucknow. The heroic defense of the British against 
the Sepoy (Indian) mutiny, in 1857. Havelock brought relief, 
but the siege continued until the arrival of Sir Colin Campbell. 
The city was recaptured by the British early in 1858. 

154 The Guards Came Through. Very few of the many thrilling events 
of the recent war have as yet been described in verse. Hyde 
Park, almost in the center of London, is where "society" rides 
out, almost as if on parade. 

1 57 Warren's Address. The three thousand " veterans " ordered against 
Warren's little band retired in disorder. Warren himself was 
killed in this engagement. 

23 (353) 



VERSE FOR PATRIOTS 

160 The Defense of the Alamo. Santa Ana led 2,000 men against the 

Fort at Alamo, March 6, 1835. It was guarded by Travis with 
only 150 Texans, aided by 32 men who arrived later. Not one 
of the soldiers survived the attack. 

161 Monterey. This town, thought to be impregnable, and held by 

10,000 men, was taken by Zachary Taylor and a smaller force, 
two days after their arrival at Monterey. 

163 The Gallant Fifty=One. These men, part of the Lopez expedition, 

were executed by the Spanish authorities in Havana, August 
16, 1851. 

1 64 The Grey Horse Troop. An incident in the suppression of the Apache 

uprisings under the command of General Miles. 
166 The Men Behind the Guns. This poem refers to the Spanish- 
American War. 

174 Battle. This poem was written in memory of Rupert Brooke. 

175 The Soldier. Rupert Brooke died from sunstroke on his way to 

the Dardanelles in 1915, and was buried in the Greek Island 
of Skyros. 

184 The Burial of Sir John Moore. This British general died in an 
attack made as his command was embarking at Corunna, Spain, 
in 1809, during Napoleon's campaign against the Peninsula. 
He was buried in the citadel there. 

186 Kanawha Men. Written just before the heroic death, in France, 
of another Kanawha man. Captain Lawrence Barber, cousin 
of the author. 

197 Old Ironsides. A protest (1833) against the designed destruction 
of the old frigate. Constitution, famous in the War of 1812. 
The response caused the Secretary of the Navy to reverse the 
order. The Constitution was preserved, and may still be seen 
in the navy yard at Charlestown, Massachusetts. 

208 Belgium National Hymn or La Brabanj onne. The Brabanters are 
inhabitants of Brabant, a mediaeval duchy now included partly 
in the Netherlands (Dutch or North Brabant) and partly in 
Belgium (Spanish Brabant). Orange refers to the colors of 
the house of Orange. 

2 ^ The Marseillaise. Composed by Rouget de ITsle, an officer at 
Strasburg, in 1792, this song was first sung by a band who went 
from Marseilles, to aid in the revolution of August, 1792, which 
gave it its present name. The author's name is commonly 
written Lisle. 

232 William Tell. A hero in Switzerland's heroic and successful struggle 
against Austria. 

234 On the Italian Front, 1916. Viva Italia, or Lo7ig Live Italy; ecco 
means behold. 

234 Italia, lo Ti Saluto. This title means Italy, I salute thee. 

235 Italia Dolorosa. The title of this poem means Italy, the afflicted, 

or sorrowful. 

236 Vive la France. Long live France; a sentiment offered at the dinner 

to Prince Napoleon at The Revere House, September 25, 1861. 
(354) 



NOTES 

250 A Chant of Love for England. An answer to Germany's Song of Hate. 

252 On Being Styled Pro-Boer. This refers to the English-African 
or Boer War. Hellas is a poetical name for Greece. 

252 Scotland. Caledonia refers to an ancient tribe occupying part of 
what is now Scotland. For centuries the name has been used 
only as a poetical name for Scotland. 

255 Patria. The word Patria means fatherland or native country, 

258 Scum 'O the Earth. The part of this poem quoted here includes 
the Poles and the Czechs, people now allied with us. 

273 The Harp That Once Through Tara's Halls. Tara is a hill in the 
county of Wexford, Ireland, the seat of early kingly assem- 
blies, etc. 

279 One Beneath Old Qlory. A response to McKinley's call for 
volunteers at the beginning of the Spanish-American War. 

282 Tubal Cain. A Biblical reference; see Genesis iv, 22. 

284 When the Great Gray Ships Come In. The arrival of the gray- 
painted ships marked the end of the Spanish-American War. 

287 Locksley Hall. Tennyson's "dip into the future" is surprisingjwhen 

one realizes that airships were at that time almost undreamed 
of. The Federation of the World finds its fulfilment, we hope, 
in the League of Peace, now planned by the Allies. 

288 Between Midnight and Morning. These lines were found penciled 

on a sheet of paper in the pocket of a young Australian, name 
vmknown, after he was killed at Gallipoli. 

296 Vital Lampada. This title means literally, the lights of life, or 

lights we live by. A more familiar expression of the same 
idea is, "The Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields 
of Eton." 

297 Epilogue to Asolando. Asolando, a fanciful name, probably sug- 

gested by a Cardinal living in Asolo, centuries before Browning's 

stay there. 
297 Prospice. Prospice means a look forward; advice to those who fear 

death, and so are "all their lifetime in bondage" to fear. 
302 Sir Galahad. The only Knight of the Round Table pure and holy 

enough to succeed in the quest for the Holy Grail. See note 

for p. 60. 
311 A Troop of the Guards. Read before the graduating class of Harvard 

CoUege, June, 1907. 
316 Each in His Own Tongue. A Rood is a cross. 
319 The Athenian Boy's Oath. The Athenian boy's entrance into citizen- 
ship was formally marked by taking a pledge of allegiance to 

his city. 
328 Armageddon. For Israel the scene of many victories and disasters 

lay near Armageddon, in the plain of Esdraelon, Palestine. 
330 Where Are You Going, Great=Heart? Great-Heart was Christian's 

guide described in Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 



(355) 



INDEX OF AUTHORS 



Addison, Joseph, 339, 345 

Alexandri, V., 212 

Andrews, Mary Raymond Ship- 
man, 272 

Anonymous, 11, 14, 15, 22, 212, 
279, 293 

Arnold, Edwin, 328 

Asquith, Herbert, 19 

Austin, Alfred, 244, 307 

Aytoun, William Edmonstoune, 
128, 134 

Baker, Karle Wilson, 13 

Balfe, M. W., 226 

Barbour, John, 342 

Barry, Beatrice, 51 

Barry, Michael Juland, 171 

Bates, Katherine Lee, 29, 37, 117 

Bennett, Henry Holcomb, 267 

Blake, William, 44 

Bourdillon. F. W., 17 

Braley, Berton, 8, 127 

Brooke, Rupert, 175 

Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 278, 

348 
Browning, Robert, 115, 223, 278, 

297 
Brown, Abbie Farwell, 2 
Bryant, William Cullen, 42 
Burns, Robert, 127, 229 
Burr, Amelia Josephine, 20, 52, 56, 

82, 110 
Burton, Richard, 284 
Byron, Lord (George Gordon), 63, 

342, 343, 347 

Cameron, W. J., 3, 5 
Campbell, Thomas, 244 
Campbell, Wilfred, 46, 246 
Carey, Henry, 207 



Carman, Bliss, 299 
Carroll, Robert Emmet, 261 
Carruth, William Herbert, 285, 

316, 348 
Carryl, Grey Wetmore, 284 
Cary, Phoebe, 101 
Chambers, Robert William, 164 
Channing-Stetson, Grace Ellery, 

287 
Child, Oscar C. A., 60 
Chorley, H. F., 211 
Clough, Arthur Hugh, 313, 343 
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 342 
Conant, Isabel Fiske, 31 
Cone, Helen Gray, 250 
Conkling, Grace Hazard, 33 
Cowper, William, 120, 346, 347 
Crawford, Charlotte Holmes, 31 
Cunningham, Allan, 227, 228 

Dawson, W. J., 180 

de Lisle, Roget, 209 

Dibdin, Thomas, 240 

Dickinson, Emily, 176, 187, 219, 

314 
Dobell, Sydney, 140 
Dobson, Austin, 233, 289 
Dorr, Julia C. R., 220 
Doyle, Sir A. Conan, 154, 240 
Doyle, Sir Francis Hastings, 79 
Drake, Joseph Rodman, 268 
Dunbar, Paul Laurence, 300 
Dwight, Timothy, 254 

Edmonds, J. M., 183 
Eliot, George, 316 
Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 40, 120,314 
Erskine, John, 344 
Eskew, Garnett Ludlow, 186 
Everett, L. H., 174, 192, 233 
357 



358 



INDEX OF AUTHORS 



Fields, James T., 339 
Finch, Francis Miles, 280 
Flash, Henry Lynden, 163 
Forman, Elizabeth Chandlee, 121 
Fomeri, Robert Charles, 103 
Foster, Stephen Collins, 217 
Foster, William Prescott, 334 

Garland, Robert, 298 

Gauger, Ray, 182 

Garrison, Theodosia, 48, 235 

Gaskill, Marion N., 55 

Gibson, Wilfred Wilson, 34, 174, 

222 
Gilder, Richard Watson, 107, 318 
Gilman, Charlotte Perkins, 295 
Glover, R., 341 
Going, Charles Buxton, 188 
Gordon, James Lindsay, 102 
Gore-Booth, Eva, 221 

Grant, Mrs. James, 202 
Hagedorn, Herman, 311, 315 
Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 61 
Hanson, Captain Joseph Mills, 35 
Harte, Bret, 43 
Hawker, Robert Stephen, 135 
Henderson, Daniel M., 53 
Henley, William Ernest, 218 
Hepburn, Elizabeth Newport, 57 
Hoffman, C. Gouveneur, 13 
Hoffman, Charles Fenno, 161 
Holland, J. G., 317 
Holland, Norah M., 229 
Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 197, 236, 

269, 345 
Hopkinson, Joseph, 196 
Howe, Julia Ward, 198 
Hoyne, Henry William, 37 

Johnson, Robert U., 238 
Johnson, William Samuel, 316 
Jones, Sir William, 317 

Key, Francis Scott, 201 
Kilmer, Joyce, 24 
Kipling, Rudyard, 335 



Kittredge, Walter, 200 
Knevels, Gertrude, 190 
Knowles, J. S., 232 

Lambert, Louis, 193 

Lanier, Sidney, 334 

Lee, Joseph, 6, 172 

Leonard, Priscilla, 292 

Le Row, Caroline, 341 

Letts, Winifred, 156 

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 78, 

262, 340, 341 
Lovelace, Richard, 41 
Lowell, James Russell, 256, 274, 

324, 325, 347 
Lyon, P. H. B., 344 

Macaulay, Thomas Babington, 63, 

123 
MacGUl, Patrick, 36, 225 
Mackay, Charles, 282, 342 
MacKaye, Percy, 238 
Mansfield, Richard, 344 
Markham, Edwin, 108,' 336, 346 
Martens, Frederick H. (Trans- 
lator), 208 
Masefield, John, 292 
Mayo, George Morrow, 281 
McCrae, John, 36 
Meredith, William Tuckey, 90 
Merivale, Herman Charles, 247 
Mercantini, Luigi, 210 
Meugens, M. G., 72 
Middleton, Jesse Edgar, 345 
Miller, Joaquin, 84, 160 
Montgomery, George Edgar, 173 
Montgomery, James, 111, 216 
Moore, Thomas, 272. 273, 348 
Morley, Christopher, 82 
Morris, Mary P., 319 
Motherwell, William, 339 
Muir, Alexander, 203 

Neal, John, 41 

Newbolt, Henry. 71,76, 81,138,296 

NicoU, A. Robert, 327 

Noyes, Alfred, 68, 249, 309 



INDEX OF AUTHORS 



359 



O'Connor, Joseph, 185 
Ogilvie, Will H., 17 
O'Hara, Theodore, 173 
Oppenheim, James, 327 
Owen, Everard, 183 
Oxenham, John, 7, 311, 330, 331, 
332 

Palmer, Henry Robinson, 187 

Payne, John Howard, 217 

Pierpont, John, 157 

Pike, Albert, 199 

Pisek, V. (Translator), 213 

Pulsifer, Harold Trowbridge, 23 

Read, Thomas Buchanan, 93, 158, 

188 
Reese, Lizette Woodworth, 73, 172 
Rentoul, J. Laurence, 345 
Rice, Cale Young, 299 
Rice, Grantland, 295 
Rice, Wallace, 85, 90, 343 
Roberts, Theodore Goodridge, 248 
Robinson, A. Mary F., 114, 122 
Robinson, Gertrude, 25 
Roche, James Jeffrey, 306 
Rooney, John Jerome, 10, 166 
Rossetti, C. G.. 234 
Ryan, Abram Joseph, 95 

Sandes, John, 204 
Sangster, Margaret E., 346 
Schackelford, Theodore Henry, 12 
Schauffler, Robert Haven, 258 
ScoUard, Clinton, 98, 105, 237 
Scott, Sir Walter. 74, 178. 252, 

253, 343 
Scott, Frederick George. 302 
Seaman, Sir Owen, 288 
Seeger, Alan, 178 
Service, Robert W., 27, 294 
Shakespeare, William, 137, 339, 347 
Shaw, D. T., 195 



Sherwood, Kate Brownlee, 89 

Sill, Edward Rowland, 301 

Simms, Evelyn, 322 

Smith, Gertrude, 26 

Smith, Marion Couthouy, 21, 50, 

236 
Smith, Samuel Francis, 194 
Spenser. Edmund, 231 
Stedman, Edmund Clarence, 96, 

271, 346 
Stetson, Grace Ellery Channing, 

287 
Strong, U. S., 116 
Story, W. W.. 45 

Taylor. Bayard, 224, 257, 344 
Tennyson, Alfred, 142, 147, 149, 

151, 189, 242, 243, 287. 302, 

333, 340 
Thomas, Edith M., 16 
Thomson, James, 206 
Ticknor, Francis Or ray, 100 

Van Dyke, Henry, 51, 54, 255, 308 

Watson, William, 252, 343 
West, Andrews F., 38 
Wetherald, Ethelwyn, 293 
Wharton, William Bakewell, 47 
White, James Terry, 170, 176 
Whitman, Walt, 107 
Whiton, Juliet, 179 
Widdemer, Margaret, 18 
Wilder, John Nichols, 268 
Wilkinson, Marguerite O. B., 320 
Wilson, McLandburgh, 9, 29, 34, 

49, 259, 260, 340 
Wolfe, Charles, 184 
Woodberry, Geo. Edward, 230, 

234, 262, 318 
Wordsworth, William, 253, 305, 

315, 340 
Wotton, Sir Henry, 309 



INDEX OF POEMS, WITH AUTHORS 



Admirals All. Newholt, Henry, 138 
Admiral's Ghost, The. Noyes, 

Alfred, 68 
America. Smith, Samuel Francis, 

194 
America. Taylor, Bayard, 257 
America at War. Smith, Gertrude, 

26 
American Flag. The. Drake, 

Joseph Rodman, 268 
America to England. Woodherry, 

George Edward, 318 
Another Chance. Van Dyke, 

Henry, 308 
Answer, The. Smith, Marion 

Couthouy, 50 
April in England. Holland, Norah 

M., 229 
April 2nd, 1917. Garrison, Theo- 

dosia, 48 
Armageddon. Arnold, Edwin, 328 
Arnold Winkelried. Montgomery, 

James, 111 
A Round Trip. Wilson, McLand- 

burgh, 259 
Aspiration. Dickinson, Emily, 314 
As the Sons of The Flag Advance. 

Mayo, George Morrow, 281 
Athenian Boy's Oath, The. Mor- 
ris, Mary P., 319 
Australians to the Front. Sondes, 

John, 204 

Babushka. Bates, Katherine Lee, 
117 

Ballad of Orleans, A. Robinson, 
A. Mary F., 122 

Bannockburn. Burns, Robert, 127 

Battle (The Going). Gibson, Wil- 
fred Wilson, 174 



Battlefield, The. Dickinson, 

Emily, 176 
Battle-Hymn of the Republic. 

Howe, Julia Ward, 198 
Belgium. Everett, L. H., 233 
Belgian National Song. Martens, 

Frederick H. (Translator), 208 
Belgium, The Bar-Lass. Robin- 
son, A. Mary F., 114 
Between Midnight and Morning. 

Seaman, Sir Owen, 288 — 
Bivouac of the Dead, The. 

O'Hara, Theodore, 173 
Blake's Homecoming. Dawson, 

W, J., 180 
Bless God, He Went as Soldiers. 

Dickinson, Emily, 187 
Blue and the Gray, The. Finch, 

Francis Miles, 280 
Bluebells of Scotland. Grant, Mrs. 

James, 202 
Bonny Dundee. Scott, Sir Walter, 

74 
Both Worshipped the Same Great 

Name. Anonymous, 15 
Brave at Home, The. Read, 

Thomas Buchanan, 188 
Bridge Builders, The. Simms, 

Evelyn, 322 
Brief Quotations, 339-348 
Brotherhood. Markham, Edwin, 

336 
Building of the Ship, The (Selec- 
tion). Longfellow, Henry W ., 262 
Burial of Sir John Moore, The. 

Wolfe, Charles, 184 

Cadorna's Retreat. Forman, Eliz- 
abeth Chandlee, 121 
Canadian National Hynm, 203 
361 



362 INDEX OF POEMS, WITH AUTHORS 



Canadians. Ogilvie, Will H., 17 
Captain! My Captain! Whitman, 

Walt. 107 
Carry On! Service, Robert W., 294 
Chant of Love for England, A. 

Cone, Helen Gray, 250 
Character of the Happy Warrior. 

Wordsworth, William, 305 
Charge of the Heavy Brigade at 

Balaclava, The. Tennyson, Al- 
fred, 149 
Charge of the Light Brigade, The. 

Tennyson, Alfred, 147 
Children of France. Robinson, 

Gertrude, 25 
Cock Your Bonnets. Oxenham, 

John, 7 
Columbia. Dwight, Timothy, 254 
Columbus. Miller, Joaquin, 84 
Concord Hymn (Selection) . Emer- 
son, Ralph Waldo, 120 
Corporal's Chevrons. Anonymous, 

11 
Creed, A (Selection). John Mase- 

field, 292 
Crusaders. Gaskill, Marion N., 55 
Cub Sawbones. Fomeri, Robert 

Charles, 103 
Czecho-Slovak National Hymn. 

Pisek, V. {Translator), 213 

Dead, The. Brooke, Rupert, 175 

Dead Soldier, A. Montgomery, 
George Edgar, 173 

Deare Countrey. Spenser, Ed- 
mund, 231 

Dear Land of All My Love. Lan- 
ier, Sidney, 334 

Death and the Fairies. MacGill, 
Patrick; 36 

Debt, The. Garrison, Theodosia, 
48 

Deed of Lieutenant Miles, The. 
ScoUard, Clinton, 105 

Defeat and Victory. Rice, Wal- 
iQce, 90 



Defense of the Alamo, The. Mil- 
ler, Joaquin, 160 

Defense of Lucknow, The. Tenny- 
son, Alfred, 151 

Democracy. Foster, William Pres- 
cott, 334 

Dixie. Pike, Albert, 199 

Drake's Drum. Newbolt, Henry, 71 

Each In His Own Tongue (Selec- 
tion). Carruth, Wm. Herbert, 
316 

Eagle Youth. Baker, Karle Wil- 
son, 13 

Edinburgh after Flodden. Ayioun, 
William Edmonstoune, 134 

Embattled France. Johnson, Rob- 
ert Undertvood, 238 

England (from The Tight Little 
Island). Dibdin, Thomas, 240 

Epilogue to Asolando (Selection). 
Browning, Robert, 297 

Fair Fight. Rice, Cale Young, 299 
Fall In! Burr, Amelia Josephine, 

52 
False Peace and True. Burton, 

Richard, 284 
Farragut. Meredith, William 

Tuckey, 90 
Fatherland, The. Lowell, James 

Russell, 256 
Fifteenth Regiment, The. Shackel- 
ford, Theo. Henry, 12 
First American Sailors, The. Rice, 

Wallace, 85 
Flag Goes By, The. Bennett, 

Henry Holcomb, 267 
Fleets, The. Meugens, M. G., 72 
Flower of Liberty, The. Holmes, 

Oliver Waidell, 269 
Foreign Born, The. Wilson, Me- 

Landburgh, 260 
For England. Whiton, Juliet, 179 
Four Epitaphs. Edmonds, J. M., 

183 



INDEX OF POEMS, WITH AUTHORS 363 



Fourth of July Ode. Lowell, James 

Russell, 325 
France. Mac Kay e, Percy, 238 
France. Rice, Grantland, 239 
Free Woman, Not a Pacifist, A. 

Hepburn, Elizabeth Newport, 57 
Future of America, The. Lanier, 

Sidney, 334 

Gallant Fifty-One, The. Flash, 
Henry Lynden, 163 

Garibaldi Hymn, The. Mercan- 
tini, Luigi, 210 

General's Death, The. O'Connor, 
Joseph, 185 

German-American, The. Bates, 
Katherine Lee, 37 

Gillespie. Newbolt, Henry, 76 

God Save the Eling. Carey, Henry, 
207 

Godspeed, A. Andrews, Mary 
Raymond Shipman, 272 

Going, The. Gibson, Wilfred Wil- 
son, 174 

Gray Horse Troop, The. Cham- 
bers, Robert William, 164 

Greeks at Thermopylse, The. 
Byron, Lord, 63 

Grenadier's Good-bye, A. New- 
bolt, Henry, 81 

Guards Came Through, The. 
Doyle, Arthur Conan, 154 

Hail Columbia. Hopkinson, Jo- 
seph, 196 

Hands All Round. Tennyson, Al- 
fred, 242 

Harp That Once Through Tara's 
Halls, The. Moore, Thomas, 273 

Heart of the Bruce, The. Aytoun, 
William Edmonstoune, 128 

Henry V to His Troops. Shake- 
speare, 137 

Here: and There. Bourdillon, F. 
jr., 17 

Heroes. Braley, Berfon, 8 



Heroes. Wilson, McLandburgh, 29 

Home. Henley, William Ernest, 
218 

Home Is Where the Fie Is. Anony- 
mous, 14 

Homesick. Dorr, Julia C. R., 220 

Home, Sweet Home. Payne, John 
Howard, 217 

Home Thoughts From Abroad. 
Browning, Robert, 223 

Homeward Bound. Woodberry, 
George Edward, 230 

Horatius at the Bridge. Macau- 
lay, Thomas Babington, 63 

Hour and the Man, The. Leonard, 
Priscilla, 292 

"I Canna' See the Sergeant." 

Lee, Joseph, 6 
I Have a Rendezvous with Death. 

Seeger, Alan, 178 
Immortality. Reese, Lizette Wood- 
worth, 73 
Incident of the French Camp. 

Browning, Robert, 115 
In Flanders Fields. McCrae, 

Lieut. Col. John, 36 
In the Day of Battle. Carman, 

Bliss, 299 
Invocation, An. Barry, Beatrice, 

51 
Is Life Worth Living? Austin, 

Alfred, 244, 307 
Italia Dolorosa. Garrison, Theo- 

dosia, 235 
Italia, lo Ti Saluto ! Rossetti, C. G., 

234 
It's a Far, Far Cry. MacGill, 

Patrick, 225 
"It's Hame, and It's Hame." 

Cunningham, Allan, 228 
Ivry. Macaulay, Lord, 123 
I Wonder What Cervera Thought. 

Pulsifer, Harold Trowbridge, 23 

Japanese National Hymn, 213 



364 INDEX OF POEMS, WITH AUTHORS 



Kanawha Men. Eskew, Garnett 
Laidlaw, 186 

Kearny at Seven Pines. Sted- 
man, Edmund Clarence, 96 

Killarney. Balfe, M. W., 226 

Kimi Ga Yo, 213 

Kings, The. Hoyne, Henry Wil- 
liam, 37 

Kitchener. Morley, Christopher, 
82 

Kitchener's March. Burr, Amelia 
Josephine, 82 

Knighthood. Scott, Frederick Geo., 
302 

Knights, The. Brown, Abbie Far- 
well, 2 

Last Christmas in the Holy Land. 

West, Andrew F., 38 
Lay of the Last Minstrel, The. 

Scott, Walter, 253 
Liberty Enlightening the World. 

Van Dyke, Henry, 54 
Liberty Enlightening the World. 

Stedman, Edmund Clarence, 271 
Lincoln, the Man of the People. 

Markham, Edwin, 108 
Little Flag on Main Street, The. 

Wilson, McLandburgh, 9 
Little Giffen. Ticknor, Francis 

Orray, 100 
Little Star in the Window, The. 

Rooney, John Jerome, 10 
Locksley Hall (Selection). Tenny- 
son, 287 
Lord of Himself. Wotton, 309 
Love of Country and of Home. 

Montgomery, James, 216 

Maid of Eclusier, The. Strong, 

U. S., 116 
Man Must Live, A. Gilman, 

Charlotte Perkins, 295 
Maple Leaf Forever, The, Muir, 

Alexander, 203 
Marco Bozzaris. Halleck, Fitz- 

Greene, 61 



Marseillaise, The. de Lisle, Roget, 

209 
Men Behind the Guns, The. 

Rooney, John Jerome, 166 
Men of the North. Neal, John, 41 
Minstrel Boy, The. Moore, 272 
MoUie Pitcher. Sherwood, Kate 

Brownlee, 89 
Monterey. Hoffman, Charles 

Fenno, 161 
Mourning. Knevels, Gertrude, 190 
Monument Enough. Ganger, Ray, 

182 
Mr. Valiant Passes Over. Burr, 

Amelia Josephine, 110 
My Coimtry. Woodberry, George 

Edward, 262 
My Heart's in the Highlands. 

Burns, Robert, 229 
My Homeland. Pisek, V. (Trans- 
lator), 213 

Need for Men, The. Holland, 
J. G., 317 

New City, The. Wilkinson, Mar- 
guerite 0. B., 320 

New Crusade, The. Bates, Kath- 
erine Lee, 29 

New Politician, The. Gilder, 
Richard Watson, 318 

New Year, The. Tennyson, 333 

Nightingales of Flanders, The. 
Conkling, Grace Hazard, 33 

O, Captain! My Captain! Whit- 
man, Walt, 107 

O May I Join the Choir Invisible 
(Selection). Eliot, George, 316 

Old Folks at Home. Foster, 
Stephen Collins, 217 

Old Ironsides. Holmes, Oliver 
Wendell, 197 

Old Kings, The. Widdemer, Mar- 
garet, 18 . 

On Being Styled "Pro-Boer." 
Watson, William, 252 



INDEX OF POEMS, WITH AUTHORS 365 



One Beneath Old Glory. Anony- 
mous, 279 

On the Italian Front, MCMXVI. 
Woodherry, George Edward, 234 

Opportunity. Sill, Edward Row- 
land, 301 

Our Bit of the Thin Red Line. 
Campbell, Wilfred, 246 

Our Country's Call. Bryant, Wil- 
liam Cullen, 42 

Patria. Van Dyke, Henry, 255 
Patriots, The. Wilson, McLan- 

burgh, 49 
Peace. Browning, Elizabeth Bar- 
rett, 278 
Peace (from Buttadeus). Johnson, 

Samuel William, 316 
Pershing at the Tomb of Lafayette. 

Burr, Amelia Josephine, 20 
Place to Die, The. Barry, Michael 

Juland, 171 
Pluck. Wetherald, Ethelwyn, 293 
Poet Enlists, A. Burr, Amelia 

Josephine, 56 
Polish Hymn. Anonymous, 212 
Poppies. Hanson, Captain Joseph 

Mills, 35 
Prayer During Battle. Hagedorn, 

Hermann, 315 
Prayer in Khaki, A. Garland, 

Robert, 298 
Present Crisis, The. Lowell, James 

Russell, 324 
Princess, The (Selection). Tenny- 
son, Alfred, 189 
Prospice (Selection). Browning, 

Robert, 297 
Psalm of Life. Longfellow, Henry 

W., 341 
Private of the BuflFs, The. Doyle, 

Sir Francis Hastings, 79 
Put it Through. Anonymous, 293 

Quotations, Brief. 339 



Ready. Cary, Phoebe, 101 
Ready, Ay, Ready. Merivale, 

Herman Charles, 247 
Reckoning, The. Roberts, Theo- 
dore Goodridge, 248 
Red Cross Nurse, The. Thomas, 

Edith M., 16 
Red, White, and Blue, The. Shaw, 

D. T., 195 
Requiem. Lee, Joseph, 172 
Retreat. Gibson, Wilfred Wilson, 

34 
Return, The. Dickinson, Emily, 

219 
Reveille, The. Harte, Bret, 43 
Revenge, The. Tennyson, Alfred, 

142 
Revolutionary Rising, The. Read, 

Thomas Buchanan, 158 
Riding with Kilpatrick. Scollard, 

Clinton, 98 
Right and Rights. Oxenham, 

John, 332 
Road to France, The. Henderson, 

Daniel M., 53 
Roumanian National Song. Alex- 

andri, V., 212 
Round Trip, A. Wilson, McLand- 

burgh, 259 
Rule, Britannia. Thomas, James, 

206 
Russian Hymn. Chorley, H. F., 

211 

Sacrifice. Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 

40 
Salutation. Smith, Marion Cou- 

thouy, 21 
Santa Filomena. Longfellow, 

Henry W., 78 
Say Not the Struggle Nought 

Availeth. Clough, Arthur Hugh, 

313 
Scotland. Scott, Sir Walter, 252 
Scrap of Paper, A. Van Dyke, 

Henry, 51 



366 INDEX OF POEMS, WITH AUTHORS 



Scum o' the Earth. Schauffler, 
Robert Haven, 258 

Sea Ballad. Dobell, Sydney, 140 

Searchlights, The. Noyes, Alfred, 
309 

Searchlights. Oxenham, John, 311 

Serbian National Song, The, 211 

Sheridan's Ride. Read, Thomas 
Buchanan, 93 

Sir Galahad. Tennyson, Alfred, 
302 

Slave, The. Oppenheim, James, 
327 

Soldier, The. Brooke, Rupert, 175 

Soldier's Rest, The. Scott, Walter, 
178 

Somewhere in France. Everett, 
L. H., 174 

Song Before Sailing. Cameron, 
W. J., 5 

Song of the Bow, The. Doyle, 
Sir A. Conan, 240 

Song of the Camp, The. Taylor, 
Bayard, 224 

Song of the Foreign-Bom. Car- 
roll, Robert Emmet, 261 

Song in " The Foresters. " Tenny- 
son, Alfred, 243 

Song of the Western Men. Haw- 
ker, Robert Stephen, 135 

Sonnet XI. Wordsworth, William, 
253 

Spires of Oxford, The. Letts, Win- 
ifred, 156 

Spirit of France, The. Scollard, 
Clinton, 237 

Spirit of Man, The. Blake, Will- 
iam, 44 

Stand by the Flag. Wilder, John 
Nichols, 268 

Stanzas on Freedom. Lowell, 
James Russell, 274 

Star-Spangled Banner, The. Key, 
Francis Scott, 201 

Sun Rises Bright in France, The. 
Cunningham, Allan, 227 



Sword of Robert E. Lee, The. 
Ryan, Abram Joseph, 95 

Table Talk (Selection). Cowper, 

William, 120 
Taps . Reese, Lizette Woodworth, 172 
Tarras Water. Gibson, Wilfred 

Wilson, 222 
Tenting To-night. Kittredge, Wal- 
ter, 200 
They Who Wait. Going, Charles 

Buxton, 188 
Three Hills. Owen, Everard, 183 
Tight Little Island. Dibdin, 

Thomas, 240 
To a Hero. Child. Oscar C. A., 60 
To Belgium. Dobson, Austin, 233 
To England. Wharton, William 

Bakewell, 47 
To the United States. Campbell, 

Wilfred, 46 
To Lucasta, On Going to the Wars. 

Lovelace, Richard, 41 
To Milton. Wordsworth, William, 

315 
Tommy Toujours Gai. Cameron, 

W. T., 3 
To the Anglo-Saxon Aviators. 

Hoffman, C. Gouveneur, 13 
To Whom Shall the World Hence- 
forth Belong. Oxenham, John, 

331 
Trees of France, The. Wilson, 

McLandburgh, 34 
Troop of the Guard Rides Forth 

Today, A. Hagedorn, Hermann, 

311 
True Patriotism. White, James 

Terry, 170 
Tubal Cain. Mackay, Charles, 282 
Two Views of War. Palmer, 

Henry Robinson, 187 

Verdun. Braley, Berton, 127 
Verdun. Smith, Marion Couthoity, 
236 



INDEX OF POEMS, WITH AUTHORS 367 



Vitai Lampada. Newbolt, Henry, 
296 

Vive la France! Crawford, Char- 
lotte Holmes, 31 

Vive la France! Holmes, Oliver 
Wendell, 236 

Voluntaries. Emerson, Ralph 
Waldo, 314 

Volunteer, The. Asquith, Herbert, 
19 

War. Channing-Stetson, Grace El- 
lery, 287 

War's Alchemy. Conant, Isabel 
Fiske, 31 

Warren's Address to the American 
Soldiers. Pierpont, John, 157 

Warrior's Prayer, The. Dunbar, 
Paul Laurence, 300 

War Song. Story, W. W., 45 

Washington. Roche, James Jef- 
frey, 306 

Washington Monument, The. 
Gilder, Richard Watson, 107 

Waves of Breffny, The. Gore- 
Booth, Eva, 221 

We Are Brethren A'. Nicoll, A. 
Robert, 327 

We Shall Remember Them. White, 
James Terry, 176 

What Constitutes a State. Jones, 
Sir William, 317 



Whatever Odds There Are. Rice, 
Grantland, 295 

Wheeler at Santiago. Gordon, 
James Lindsay, 102 

Where Are You Going, Great- 
Heart? Oxenham, John, 330 

When Johnny Comes Marching 
Home. Lambert, Louis, 193 

When Spring Comes Back. Noyes, 
Alfred, 249 

When the Cannon Booms No 
More. Carruih, William Her- 
bert, 285 

When the Great Gray Ships Come 
Home. Carryl, Grey Wetmore, 
284 

When There is Peace. Dobson, 
Austin, 289 

White Ships and the Red, The. 
Kilmer, Joyce, 24 

William Tell Among the Moun- 
tains. Knowles, J. S., 232 

Wireless. Anonymous, 22 

XX. Dickinson, Emily, 187 

Year Between, The. Kipling, 
Rudyard, 335 

Ye Mariners of England. Camp- 
bell, Thomas, 244 

Young Fellow My Lad. Service, 
Robert W., 27 



